Angelus Mortis
by TrueStarGoddess
Summary: "Elizabeth, this is D," Jack looked between Elizabeth and the young woman who had straightened in her chair, schooling her features into neutrality, "I'll put this bluntly. She was ordered to kill you and me before the Daedalus leaves tomorrow afternoon." Part One of the Angel Series.
1. Q & A

**I was discussing another series I wrote (Shadow 'Verse, posted on AO3) with a friend when she posed an interesting question: What would've happened if you set the story earlier, during the actual series? (PS: This friend happens to be a huge Elizabeth Weir fan.)**  
**This question, of course, prompted a lengthy debate and YET ANOTHER rewatch of the Stargate: Atlantis series. I changed a few of the details about the OFC that I didn't like the first time around; changed her name and appearance, moved some things around in her backstory, then proceeded to throw her into the deep end of SGA. This story (series, perhaps?) is the result. As I haven't actually decided whether to finish this work or not, updates will be much slower than I would normally do. Probably once a week, provided I actually do finish it. I ninja-edit ALL THE TIME, even after the story is finished, because I'm more than a little neurotic.**

**This story sticks mostly to canon and as such, contains major spoilers (and actual dialogue) for the SGA series from season two onwards. However, one of the main points of writing this story was to fix some of the issues I have with the canon-writing, so as the story progresses, it will deviate further. ****I'm trying to give the story more of a "team-feels" vibe, rather than romance, but I did sneak a bit of Sparky (and a couple other minor relationships) into the background.**

**As usual, I sadly do not own any of the Stargate characters or terms, only borrow them for my own amusement. I make no profit from writing this. **

**G****oogle Translate was used for all foreign languages. If you actually speak the language and see something that needs to be corrected, please let me know!**

**Questions, comments, reviews, and kudos are always appreciated.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Jack woke slowly, a dull throbbing pain behind his eyes. He tried to lift a hand to rub the sleep from his face, only to feel a strong binding holding his wrists together in front of him. He blinked his heavy eyelids open, the soft light from the bedside lamp revealing a thin black cord wound tightly around the skin of his wrists. He glanced further down his body and saw the same cord at his ankles over the pajama pants he had thankfully remembered to put on before bed. He looked immediately to his right and saw Carter next to him in their bed, tied in much the same way, black cord around her wrists and ankles, still unconscious.

"You're finally awake," a raspy, feminine voice came from the darkened doorway of the room.

"You have got to be kidding me," Jack swore under his breath, "It's not even my house this time."

"Lt. Colonel Carter is fine," the gravelly voice spoke again, "She should wake up in about an hour or so. I thought you and I could have a short conversation in private, while we're waiting."

"I had to be tied up for this conversation?" Jack scooted himself up awkwardly until he was leaning back against the headboard.

"And mildly sedated, yes," the voice agreed, "But that should be mostly counteracted by the stimulants I gave you a minute ago. You might be experiencing a mild headache. I used a new cocktail of drugs and I haven't quite perfected the dosages."

"Always glad to be a guinea pig," Jack rolled his eyes, "Who are you and what do you want?"

"I'm no one important," the voice answered evenly, "As for what I want...I want some answers, General O'Neill."

"Well, you woke up the wrong person then," Jack scoffed, "Carter's the one who knows everything about everything."

"Unfortunately for you," the voice countered, "That is not the case this time."

"'Unfortunately'?" Jack asked calmly, "I thought we were just having a friendly conversation. You make it sound like I'm about to get tortured or something equally ridiculous."

"I'm not here to torture you, General. I'm here to kill you."

The figure belonging to the smoky voice finally emerged from the dark entrance of the room. Jack was mildly surprised to see a young woman, just barely five and a half foot tall. Her almost perfectly symmetrical face had delicate features; a straight, pert nose, upper lip slightly fuller than the lower, and wide, almond eyes framed with long, full lashes. She had lightly tanned skin with a dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose and her cheekbones. Her dark red hair, an almost unnatural shade of burgundy, was pulled back in a severe French braid, the end rolled and pinned up to the nape of her neck, her bangs swept neatly to the side. She wore a slim jacket made of heavy black leather and zipped all the way to the base of her throat with a pair of skinny black leggings in a soft stretchy leather. Her hands were partially covered by fingerless black gloves, dull silver metal covering the knuckles and the outer edges and a pair of tightly laced combat boots came up to mid-calf, the soft soles soundless over the carpet.

"Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?" Jack asked flippantly.

She didn't respond but kept moving closer, pulling one of the kitchen chairs behind her, stopping just outside arm's reach of the bed. She unzipped and removed the jacket, silently draping it over the back of the chair. Underneath she wore a plain black cotton tee-shirt with long sleeves, the fitted clothing revealing the distinctly muscled curves of her body. More disconcerting to Jack was the black shoulder holster she wore that he hadn't noticed before she removed the jacket. The holster contained three dull black knives, the handles with small holes in the metal hanging down over the lower part of her right ribs.

She sat down in the chair gracefully, leaning back and crossing one leg smoothly over the other. She looked over Jack slowly, gaze stopping momentarily on both sets of his bindings, and when her gaze finally met his, the light from the bedside lamp made the ash gray shade of her irises clear.

Jack studied the determined look on the young woman's face for less than a second before he decided that although she was completely sincere in her desire to kill him, she wouldn't do so until she got her answers.

"Fine, I get it. No Star Wars references. Look, if you're going to kill me, can you just get it over with?" Jack said wearily, "It's the middle of the night and I'm tired."

"I'll kill you eventually, General," the woman crossed her hands neatly across the top of her knees, "I just have a few questions first."

"Do you normally question the people you kill?" Jack asked dryly.

"Only if I'm asked to," a small scowl creased the woman's forehead, "And I'm rarely this polite about it."

"Lucky me, I guess," Jack sighed.

"I have a small issue with the latest set of directives I've been given, General O'Neill," the woman tilted her head to the right, "I'm hoping you can clarify a few things for me."

"Why don't you ask whoever gave you the orders?" Jack questioned, "I'm sure they know more than me about…whatever it is."

"If the people I work for find out I've been questioning my orders, even in the slightest," the woman said evenly, "They'll kill me without hesitation."

"Sounds like you need a new boss," Jack snorted, "Or a new line of work."

"I don't believe either of those are options for me," the woman looked down to her lap as she responded quietly, tapping the fingers of her left hand on her leg, "I can either continue to follow my orders until I'm finally killed trying to complete a mission or refuse to follow them and spend the rest of my extremely short life constantly on the run, always looking over my shoulder, until the inevitable day that I'm caught and executed."

The woman looked back up at Jack and he caught the flash of unhappiness in her eyes before it was quickly replaced with an expression of bland indifference.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions, General," the woman continued smoothly, "This will go much quicker for both of us if you answer honestly and completely the first time."

"I make no promises," Jack gestured clumsily toward his temple with his bound arms, "My memory's not what it used to be."

"The last instructions I received from my employer were a set of termination orders for you and Dr. Elizabeth Weir," the woman explained, "Someone wants the two of you gone, in the next three days. Someone with a great deal of power, a lot of spare cash, and extensive connections, since I was given the order."

"Lots of people want me dead," Jack replied easily, "What else is new?"

"They could have sent almost anyone to kill you, General O'Neill," the woman said seriously, "They could've given any idiot off the street a gun, hired one of the many freelancers available to them, even used a lower caliber asset. Instead, they sent me. While you have extensive military training, I find it…curious that they would assign me this task."

"Job too easy for you?" Jack asked sarcastically.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is," the woman answered, raising a hand to stop the objection Jack had been forming, "Don't misunderstand, it is not a commentary on your abilities. The simple truth is; I am normally only given assignments that no one else can complete. I am the best asset currently employed by the US government. I see no valid reason for me being assigned this mission."

"A little full of ourselves, are we?" Jack raised an eyebrow at the young woman.

"It's a simple statement of fact," the woman corrected as she laid her hand back in her lap, "Setting aside the fact that I should never have been assigned this task, I've come across some concerns during my research of the targets."

"Let me guess," Jack smirked, "You found out that I'm a pretty amazing guy and you're having second thoughts about killing me."

"Oh no, General," the woman smiled, an all lips and no teeth smile that didn't quite reach her eyes that somehow made Jack think of a cat about to pounce, "I understand completely why they want you dead. I fully intend to kill you once our conversation is done."

"Hey," Jack protested, "I think I might be offended."

"What I don't understand is why Dr. Weir's execution was ordered," the woman ignored his outburst, "From what I've seen, she's done exemplary work in every field she's chosen, including her tenure as head of the SGC and as the leader of the Atlantis expedition."

"The what?" Jack asked curiously.

"General O'Neill," the woman leveled a flat stare at him, "Please don't insult either of us by pretending you don't know what I'm talking about. I know all about the Stargate program that has been run out of Cheyenne Mountain for the last eight years; I've known ever since that moron Kinsey found out about it. Even if I hadn't already known about it, I research any and all assignments given to me quite thoroughly."

"If you have a problem with killing Dr. Weir," Jack said cautiously, "Why are you talking to me? Why not have this conversation with her?"

"I don't have a problem killing Dr. Weir," the woman answered honestly, "I'm merely curious. I don't believe that Dr. Weir would be able to provide the answers I want in the time I have allotted. You accepted the fact that people in your own government wanted you dead without hesitation and moved past it quickly. If I tried to have this conversation with the good doctor, it would take quite a bit more time than I have available."

"If that's the case," Jack spoke evenly, "and you know what Dr. Weir has been doing the last year, I'm sure you can guess why someone would want her dead."

"I would assume it's because she is a formidable woman," the woman replied carefully, the hardness in her eyes fading slightly as half a smile twitched onto her face, "and an expert at political maneuvering. She also seems to have the complete support of the President and several international allies. I believe whoever wants her out of the way wants to put someone weaker-willed in charge of the Atlantis expedition in order to gain control of the advanced technology there. The quickest, most efficient way to do that is to arrange an unfortunate accident for Dr. Weir. It would otherwise take years of subtle shifts in power to maneuver someone else in her place."

"You admire her," Jack said thoughtfully, studying the young woman's face, "Respect her, even. You don't want to kill her."

"That's not relev-" a confused expression replace the momentary softness on the woman's face, "I didn't say that."

"Why did you really come here?" Jack narrowed his eyes at her.

"I told you," the woman started tapping her fingers on her knee again, "I have questions that require answers."

"Please don't insult either of us by pretending that's the only reason," Jack echoed her earlier words, "It sounds like you already have all the information you need on both Dr. Weir and myself. You obviously could've killed me in my sleep. Instead, you woke me up to talk. Why?"

The woman held his stare for a moment, then dropped her eyes into her lap again, staring at her open palms.

"'It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness'. Eleanor Roosevelt," she spoke quietly, "I'm tired of cursing my own darkness, General O'Neill. I'm looking to light a candle."

"You got a name, kid?" Jack inquired softly.

"Yeah, lots of them," the woman laughed bitterly, "Choose one."

"How about the real one?" Jack asked carefully.

"No one has called me by my birth name," the woman sighed, keeping her eyes in her lap, "as far back as I can remember."

"Kid, you're making this kinda difficult," Jack rolled his eyes.

"D," the woman finally looked back up at him, speaking haltingly, "My initial…I guess you can call me D."

"All right, D," Jack nodded once, "You can call me Jack. Can I tell you what I think?"

"I almost positive you're going to tell me whether I agree or not, Jack," D said dryly, "I'm not sure why you bothered to ask."

"It's like you know me," Jack grinned, then his expression turned serious, "I think you came here, wanted to have this lovely conversation with me, because you knew I would be able to talk you out of doing something you don't really want to do in the first place."

"I've done many things I didn't want to do," D replied with a jerky shrug, "That doesn't change anything."

"And because you knew I could offer you a way out," Jack finished carefully.

"There is nowhere on Earth my employers cannot find me," D said evenly, "Nowhere in this galaxy, if my suspicions are correct."

"But you forget, young padawan," Jack smiled, "I have the power to send you to a galaxy far, far away."

"If I don't kill the both of you," D said calmly, "they'll simply find someone else to do it. The people I work for are…not nice people. They are quite persistent. Also, I am a rather unique asset for them. I doubt they will give up so easily if I disappear."

"I'm a big boy," Jack insisted, "I can take care of myself."

"While that might be true on a good day," D rolled her eyes, "Dr. Weir can't necessarily do the same."

"Wow," Jack cocked his head to the side, "I didn't realize assassins were so…snarky."

"I doubt you've met that many assassins," D gave him a flat stare, "And you're one to talk, Mr. Sass-the-person-here-to-kill-me."

"I have a proposal for you, D," Jack grinned, "One that I think will benefit us both."

"All right," D nodded once, "I'm listening."

"I'll send you to Atlantis as Dr. Weir's bodyguard," Jack studied D carefully, "That way you don't have to worry about your employers whacking you because they're pissed and Elizabeth has someone I can trust watching her back."

"You know nothing about me, Jack," D tilted her head to the side, "I'm not what you think I am. How do you know you can trust me?"

"I'm usually a pretty good judge of character," Jack said easily.

"I'm not…" D frowned and paused, her eyes narrowing as she continued, "What's the price?"

"Price for what?" Jack wondered.

"The price for helping me," D clarified, "What do you want from me in return?"

"The truth," Jack answered sincerely, "all of it."

"That's it?" D asked warily.

"And for you to trust me," Jack agreed with a one shouldered shrug, "But that will come with time."

"I'm not…I don't…" D trailed off and looked past Jack to Sam, "Your wife is awake."

"Jack?" Sam blinked open her eyes. She pulled on her bonds and sat up suddenly.

"I'm here, Sam," Jack assured her.

"Why are we tied up?" Sam frowned at him, then looked over to the red-haired woman sitting next to her bed, "Who are you?"

"Sam, this is D," Jack gestured with his bound hands, "D, this is Sam."

"Hello," Sam said politely, then looked back to Jack, "What's going on here?"

"Interesting," D raised an eyebrow at the blonde woman, "I thought I took into account your unique physiology when I was calculating your dosage. It seems your body processed the drugs faster than I had anticipated. I'll have to keep that in mind in the future."

"Sir?" Sam looked at D out of the corner of her eye.

"Do we have a deal, D?" Jack drew D's attention back to him.

"Truth and trust, Jack?" D said quietly.

Jack nodded solemnly.

"Acceptable," D agreed finally.

"Great," Jack grinned, "Now, I enjoy a little light bondage as much as the next guy, but maybe you could untie us so we can talk details?"

D used her left hand to pull one of the knives silently from the holster at her ribs, "As long as you promise your wife isn't going to try to kill me."

"Oh, Sam you're worried about," Jack rolled his eyes as D sliced through the cords at his ankles, "Not me."

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, Jack," D looked between Jack and Sam as she cut the bonds on Jack's wrists, "But you aren't nearly as dangerous as Colonel Carter."

"Hey!" Jack protested loudly as D flipped her knife around, holding it by the blade. After a short moment of hesitation - D looking between the knife in her hand and Jack's calm brown eyes - she handed it to Jack hilt first and he nodded his approval.

"Don't be offended," D sat back in the chair as Jack cut Sam loose, "I can easily subdue both of you again. It's just, well, she might have some weird technological thing up her sleeve I don't know about. She's entirely too good for you, you know. I can't believe you convinced her to marry you."

"This is going to be an interesting story, isn't it?" Sam wondered as she rubbed her hands over her wrists.

"Yeah, sure, you betcha," Jack handed the knife back to D.


	2. Agreement

"Elizabeth," Carson hurried down one of the many long, gray hallways of the SGC, "You have a minute?"

"For you, Carson, I've got two," Elizabeth smiled as she slowed, waiting for him to catch up with her, "I was just on my way to my temporary office to meet with General O'Neill."

"Oh really?" Carson said curiously, "That's what I was going to ask you about. It seems I've been called to the same meeting. I don't suppose you know what it's about?"

"Sorry, no," Elizabeth shook her head, "Only that the General said it was urgent. He delayed his flight to Washington this morning."

The two of them rounded the corner to hear muffled voices coming from the office at the end of the hallway. Elizabeth thought she recognized one of the voices as Jack's, but the second female voice was unfamiliar.

"Should we knock?" Carson stopped in front of the door.

"It's still my office," Elizabeth said as she turned the handle, "And we're expected."

"It's my life, Jack," the hoarse feminine voice shouted as Elizabeth pushed open the door, "You've no idea how-"

"I don't care!" Jack interrupted, yelling at the young woman from across the desk, "Sit down and be quiet or I swear to God – I will shoot you. Repeatedly."

"You cannot expect-" the red-haired woman started to protest.

Jack held up a hand and she stopped speaking immediately. She flopped down in the nearest chair, huffing petulantly as she crossed her arms across her chest. She glared at Jack and mumbled something decidedly unfriendly under her breath in a foreign language Elizabeth didn't recognize.

"Don't think I don't know you're calling me names," Jack pointed an angry finger at her, "I may not speak whatever that is, but I know when I'm being cussed at."

The woman didn't say anything further, instead sinking deeper into the chair and blowing her bangs out of her eyes with an irritated huff.

Jack swiped a hand down his face as he sat down heavily in the chair behind the desk, "If I had known you were going to be such a pain in the ass about everything, I would never have agreed to this."

"General O'Neill," Elizabeth greeted him politely, looking the room's two occupants over. Jack wore the plain green BDUs he preferred, black stars pinned to the collar, SGC and American flag patches in place. The annoyed woman wore a similar set of worn green BDUs that looked at least two sizes too big for her small frame, but the velcro on her shoulders were clear of any identifying patches. Her long, dark burgundy red hair was in a messy, low ponytail. Elizabeth caught a flash of ash gray irises when the young woman gaze flickered over Elizabeth and Carson briefly before returning her annoyed gaze to Jack.

"Good morning, Dr. Weir, Dr. Beckett," Jack nodded to both of them, gesturing towards the two empty chairs, "Sorry for calling you in so early. Please shut the door behind you and have a seat."

"Could you tell us what this is all about, General?" Elizabeth sat down. Carson pulled the door shut before taking the last empty chair for himself.

Jack pulled a smooth quartz-looking crystal from his front uniform pocket. He set it down gently on the desk and it began to glow faint white when he tapped the top of it twice in quick succession.

"Asgard surveillance-jamming device," Jack explained at Elizabeth's curious look, "A little present from Thor last time we talked. The conversation we're about to have is so far off the record it's in another galaxy. Is that understood?"

"Of course, General," Elizabeth nodded shortly.

"Yes, sir," Carson agreed quickly.

"Elizabeth, this is D," Jack looked between Elizabeth and the young woman who had straightened in her chair, schooling her features into neutrality, "In the interest of saving time, I'll be blunt. She was ordered to kill both you and me before the Daedalus leaves tomorrow afternoon."

"She was," Elizabeth said flatly, turning to look at D.

"I'm sorry, what?" Carson exclaimed, shifting nervously in his chair, "Why is she sitting in Elizabeth's office then? Why isn't she restrained?"

"Carson," Elizabeth cautioned him softly as she turned back to Jack, "I assume, General, that since we're having this chat in my office instead of a holding cell, you've convinced her not to do so?"

"We've managed to come to a sort of agreement, yes," Jack said wryly.

"I didn't actually agree to the ridiculousness you've been spouting this morning," D waved a hand at him, leaning forward as she spoke, "I only agreed to-"

"_Repeatedly_," Jack drew the word out slowly and D quieted once more, settling back in the chair.

"What sort of agreement did you come up with exactly, General?" Elizabeth asked neutrally.

"I hired her as your personal assistant," Jack smiled widely, "She'll be accompanying you when you leave tomorrow."

"My personal assistant," Elizabeth repeated incredulously, looking between Jack and D, "No offense, Jack, but I'm not sure I need that kind of assistance."

"Actually, Dr. Weir," D finally turned to meet Elizabeth's stare, "you do. The people who want you dead will not simply give up if I disappear. They will send others and it's only a matter of time before they figure out how to get to Atlantis. I am uniquely qualified to help you. Not only do I have the physical skills to protect you from any of my competitors and the many unforeseen dangers of the Pegasus galaxy, I also have a doctorate in linguistics, currently fluent in forty languages, including a firm grasp of both Ancient and Goa'uld, and a doctorate in political science, with an emphasis on international relations. The combination of those degrees alone would prove extremely useful in a place like Atlantis."

"I don't need a bodyguard," Elizabeth insisted, "The military contingent in the City is perfectly capable of handling any situations that may arise."

"I'm not doubting their abilities," D replied in a carefully modulated tone, "But the military's job is not to protect you specifically. It's to protect Atlantis at all costs. That would not be the case with me."

"While that may be-" Elizabeth started.

"That's not the only consideration," Jack interrupted, "By not following her orders and killing us, D has painted a considerable target on her back. She's not safe in the Milky Way anymore."

"I believe the people I've come to work for recently might be associated with the Trust," D explained, her voice leaking nervousness through, "The orders I've been receiving lately have been…different. There was no reason to send someone like me after you and Jack."

"Someone like you?" Elizabeth asked carefully.

"Someone has to do the dirty work, Dr. Weir," D replied smoothly, straightening to attention in her chair, "And up until the last couple years, I was okay with that person being me. I was serving my country in the best way I could, in a way few other people were willing. Lately, however, the things I've been ordered to do have not been in the best interests of this country. They've been in the best interests of a small, select group of people. I am not okay with being used in that manner."

"So you see," Jack leaned back in his chair, "you two need each other. D needs a new job and you need someone to watch out for you."

"Why me?" Elizabeth turned in her chair to face D fully, "If this has been going on for a while, as you say, why suddenly refuse to follow your orders?"

"Do you know any Shakespeare, Dr. Weir?" D asked evenly.

"Some, yes," Elizabeth agreed with a short nod.

"'Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red'," D quoted softly, holding Elizabeth's gaze steadily.

"Macbeth," Elizabeth replied calmly.

"I'm tired of getting my hands dirty for people who do not deserve my loyalty," D dropped her eyes to Elizabeth's lap, "During my research of you, I discovered that you have a great capacity for compassion. You believe the best in people, even when there's overwhelming evidence to the contrary. I'm hoping that by attempting to keep someone like you safe, I can redeem myself in some small way."

"There's a reason we're in your office instead of a jail cell, Elizabeth," Jack said quietly, "I wouldn't be helping her if I didn't think she was worth it."

"Yes, well," Elizabeth smiled at Jack wryly, "We all know you have a soft spot for strays. You do know Atlantis is not a rehabilitation center for all Jack O'Neill's hard luck cases, right?"

"I am not a stray puppy," D scowled at Elizabeth, "As I pointed out, I'm more than qualified to contribute to the expedition, even without protecting you. I have two doctorates and an IQ of just under two hundred. I was in the middle of getting my third doctorate in cryptography, but unfortunately that will have to be abandoned now. Even so, I'm sure-"

"I think you'll fit right in," Elizabeth interrupted with a short laugh.

"Oh, aye, she'll do a lovely job," Carson smiled warmly, "Although, you may want to keep her away from Rodney for as long as possible."

"Great, now that's settled," Jack reached into his desk drawer and pulled out two thick tablets, leaning across the desk to hand them to Elizabeth and Carson, "We can get down to brass tacks."

"I still don't think this is a good idea, Jack," D protested with a slight frown.

"And I still don't care," Jack rolled his eyes, "We're doing this my way or not at all."

"Anyone ever tell you that you're an asshole?" D asked sweetly.

"Yeah, sure," Jack smiled broadly, "Lots of times. Anyone ever tell you that you're an annoying little shit?"

"Nope," D shook her head, "You're the first."

"I find that incredibly difficult to believe," Jack snorted and turned back to Elizabeth and Carson, "Those tablets contain copies of D's file, her background, medical history, and all of her missions over the last decade. You two are the only people on Atlantis that will have access to this information. No one else needs to know who D is and what she's really doing on Atlantis. As far as the rest of the expedition is concerned, Dr. Vaughn is nothing more than Dr. Weir's new executive assistant and her personnel file will reflect that."

"You expect me to keep this a secret from the rest of my staff?" Elizabeth raised an imperious eyebrow at Jack.

"For her safety, and for yours, yes, I do," Jack replied easily, "As it turns out, the United States government was conducting some interesting and highly unethical experiments in early eighties. D was the subject of a classified DOD project codenamed 'Evolution'. The details of the project are in the beginning of her file. Take a quick look at the background section and you'll understand."

There were a couple minutes of silence as both Elizabeth and Carson looked through the file. While Elizabeth's expression stayed carefully neutral, an angry frown started forming on Carson's face, growing deeper as he continued reading.

"Bloody hell," Carson finally exclaimed, "Who would do something like this to children? Savages."

"The experiment was never meant for children, Dr. Beckett," D said calmly, "I was only given the injections out of misguided attempt at showing love. Dr. James had no way of knowing what the consequences would be when his success was found out and by the time he realized, it was already too late."

"Are there others like you?" Elizabeth looked up from the tablet to D.

"No," D shook her head sadly, "None of the other test subjects, adults or children, were able to endure the experiment. I am their only success."

"That's why they'll always come after you," Carson scowled thoughtfully, "Even if you stop following orders, they'd need your body, your DNA, if they wanted to recreate their success with the technological and medical advancements since then."

"That's part of the reason I decided to tell both you both the complete truth about D," Jack agreed, then turned to quirk an eyebrow at D, "Although she doesn't seem to think so, D needs someone looking out for her in Atlantis."

"Jack, I don't need-" D started.

"Besides," Jack cut her off, "the first physical you performed on Dr. Vaughn would reveal her unique genetics. Telling you now saves time."

"What's the other reason?" Elizabeth questioned.

Jack grinned, "I want Dr. Beckett to help fake her death."

"You want me to do what?" Carson's jaw dropped.

"He wants you to extract some of my DNA," D explained with a short glare at Jack, "and implant it in a corpse that I'll be acquiring in about six hours. A rogue US intelligence asset is about to perish in a fiery car crash in Colorado Springs while escaping from the authorities General O'Neill called when he discovered her lurking near his current residence."

"How does one go about 'acquiring' a corpse, Dr. Vaughn?" Elizabeth asked evenly.

"I checked the local morgues," D responded carefully, "There is an unclaimed Jane Doe in Denver that is an approximate physical match. No one will miss the body."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable using some poor dead woman that way," Carson frowned and shifted in his seat again.

"She is scheduled to be shipped to a crematorium, Dr. Beckett," D spoke gently, "She has no family, no one to claim her. I wouldn't normally suggest a plan this rushed and haphazardly put together," D gave Jack a short glare, "but my employers know about the Stargate program. If I simply disappear, they'll assume I convinced Jack to send me through the Stargate to another planet. This way, I will have a very small head start."

"Isn't it dangerous to give them any of your DNA?" Elizabeth inquired.

"Yes, but I believe with Dr. Beckett's help," D gestured towards him, "we can leave just enough DNA evidence for them to be able to identify the body as mine, but not enough for them to be able to use. The temperature of the fire will also help mitigate some of the danger."

"It's a risk," Jack agreed, "but I think it's one we're going to have to take to make this work."

"Elizabeth?" Carson looked to her curiously.

"If I agree to all this," Elizabeth said cautiously, studying D as she sat perfectly still in her chair, "especially keeping your identity a secret from people I trust, I expect honesty from you at all times."

"What is it with secret organizations and truth?" D barely refrained from rolling her eyes, "Jack has already made that part of my deal with him. I have no problem extending that to you as well, ma'am. If at any point you feel that I have become a threat to you or to Atlantis, I will allow myself to be put in a holding cell until such time as I can be dealt with in a manner of your choosing."

"I can agree to that," Elizabeth nodded.

"I have an additional requirement as well," D said calmly, "You don't go anywhere without me. If a situation arises where you have to go off-world, I go with you. When it comes to your personal security, you have to listen to me. You have to let me protect you, without complaint."

"I can't promise I won't complain," Elizabeth smiled widely, "But I believe we have a deal, Dr. Vaughn."

"Please, call me D," D smiled hesitantly, "I think we're going to get along just fine, ma'am."


	3. No One

"If there's nothing else for tonight, ma'am," D checked the time on her large digital watch, "I think I'm going to go talk to Hermiod for a little while before I head back to my quarters."

"Hermiod actually talks to you?" Elizabeth asked curiously, setting her coffee cup down.

"He's teaching me how to speak the Asgard language, ma'am," D nodded as she stood, "It turns out, he's got a wicked sense of humor and very little patience for most humans."

"Sounds like someone else I know," Elizabeth smiled.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about, ma'am," D raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sure you don't," Elizabeth laughed, "Good night, D. I'll see you in the morning."

"I'll keep my radio on if you need anything, ma'am," D spoke over her shoulder as she left, "Don't stay up too late. And lay off the coffee, that's your third cup in the last two hours."

"Thank you, Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth called after her, rolling her eyes since no one else was in the room to see her.

Elizabeth sat in the quiet mess hall, slowly sipping on her warm cup of coffee and enjoying the brilliant blue streaks of hyperspace out the window. She let her mind wander, reflecting on all the changes in her life over the last couple months. She was drawn out of her reverie, long after her coffee cooled, by footsteps coming down the hall. She turned to see John coming into the room, heading straight for the carafe of coffee behind her.

"Hey, what are you doing up so late?" Elizabeth asked.

"Couldn't sleep," John poured himself a cup of coffee, "Must be the burden of command," John smirked as he came over to sit across from Elizabeth at the table, "You know, ever since I was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel?"

Elizabeth barely contained her smile as she sat forward, "All right, John, it's been almost a month. When are you going to stop trying to find a way to bring that up in every single conversation?"

"You've got to understand," John replied easily, "There's a lot of people in the Air Force who never thought I'd make it past Captain."

"Well, obviously, the people whose opinions matter the most thought otherwise," Elizabeth leaned back in her chair again, not bothering to hold the smile back this time.

"What about you?" John wondered, "What are you still doing up?"

"Mmm," Elizabeth hummed thoughtfully, "I think I got used to falling asleep to the sound of the ocean."

"Well, McKay says we're already at the edge of the Pegasus galaxy. You'll be fine once we get back to Atlantis. You know, it's funny. I spent the past year wondering if I'd ever see Earth again, and as soon as I got there…" John trailed off with a small shake of his head.

"I know how you feel. God, it was extremely convenient to be able to step through the gate and be at Stargate Command in an instant, and now this…" Elizabeth glanced around the small room, "It feels extremely inconvenient having to spend eighteen days cooped up on this ship to get back."

"Until we find another ZPM to power the Earth gate," John lifted his coffee cup, "that's just the way it's going to have to be."

One of the Daedalus crew members, dressed in the standard green flight suit, came running into the room, "Dr. Weir, Colonel Sheppard, there's been an accident."

Elizabeth and John stood immediately, following the crew member out of the room. Elizabeth tapped her radio as they walked out the doorway, "Dr. Vaughn, this is Dr. Weir."

"I'm already on my way, ma'am," was D's quick, calm response, "I'll meet you there."

Elizabeth followed the crewman and John through the ship, their pace quick, and when they arrived at the small crowded room, D was already standing just outside the doorway, leaning casually back against the wall. She seemed relaxed, but Elizabeth realized she was standing in the one position where she could see both inside the room and down every direction in the hallway and her eyes tracked every movement.

"That's Dr. Monroe," Elizabeth exclaimed as she came into the room behind John, "What happened?"

"I don't know," Carson looked up from the body, moving his hand away from the man's neck, "but he's dead."

Elizabeth crossed her arms across her chest, hugging herself tightly as she moved back out of the way and watched Carson motion two of the waiting corpsmen into the room. The crewman that had informed Elizabeth and John of the accident turned to leave hastily. Rodney came walking quickly down the hallway and taking one look at the body, stepped around the people in the room to sit at the computer terminal, already typing away.

By the time the Carson and the corpsmen had a body bag laid out, moving Dr. Monroe's body with extra care and zipping him up, the crewman had returned with Colonel Caldwell.

"How did he die?" Caldwell asked neutrally.

"I'm not a hundred percent certain," Carson replied as the corpsmen wheeled Dr. Monroe's body out of the small room on the gurney, "But there are burn marks on his fingertips."

"Obviously there was a short," John gestured to the control panel on the wall, "Panels are open, circuits are charred."

"There's not enough juice in those circuits to kill anyone," Caldwell moved to the center of the room, "Doctor?"

"I'll know more once I've had a chance to examine the body more thoroughly," Carson answered calmly. He made his way out of the room, following the path of Dr. Monroe's body down the hall.

"Do you know what was he was working on?" Elizabeth looked over to Rodney.

"Computer diagnostics, strictly routine. I've got security camera footage," Rodney motioned to the screen, pulling up the video. Caldwell, John, and Elizabeth moved forward, watching the soundless segment as Dr. Monroe worked at the terminal, until the footage was cut off abruptly by static.

"What happened there?" Elizabeth questioned.

"I don't know," Rodney tapped several more keys, "It's a camera malfunction."

"Right before he was killed?" John said evenly, "Interesting coincidence."

"Actually, I think it makes sense," Rodney turned to face them, "Look, Colonel Caldwell was right. There's not enough juice in those circuits to kill someone, at least not normally."

"What are you thinking?" Elizabeth inquired.

"It's possible there was some sort of isolated power surge in this section," Rodney answered, "That would explain the lost camera, the malfunctioning door…"

"So," Caldwell glanced towards the control panel, "when the door controls didn't respond, he took out the panel to bypass the circuits and received a fatal jolt?"

"Well, like I said, it's possible. Look, I recommend we drop out of hyperspace, run a full diagnostic on the power distribution systems," Rodney said seriously.

"No," Caldwell replied immediately, "we drop out now, we risk being detected."

"That's true," Rodney started, "I just think that if we-"

"We'll be back in Atlantis in less than two days," Caldwell interrupted, "You can do your diagnostic then."

"Colonel, are you sure that's wise?" Elizabeth tried to keep the frustration from her voice.

"With all due respect, Doctor, you got back to Earth through the Stargate," Caldwell responded shortly, "This is my third trip on the Daedalus between galaxies."

"I understand that, but this ship is relatively new," Elizabeth spoke calmly, "There might be some problems-"

"Doctor," Caldwell interjected, "A word, please."

Elizabeth exchanged a quick glance with John, then left the room, Caldwell directly behind her. D followed them at a distance, taking care to stay just far enough away to give them the illusion of privacy as they walked down the busy hallway.

"I know the chain of command can get a little fuzzy on Atlantis, but that's not going to happen here," Caldwell turned to Elizabeth as he stopped, "You got a problem with my orders, you take it to me in private. Otherwise, keep your opinions to yourself."

"Are you sure that's what this is all about?" Elizabeth asked calmly.

"I've got a job to do, Doctor," Caldwell insisted.

"But not the one you wanted," Elizabeth said carefully.

Caldwell opened his mouth to say something, then apparently thought the better of it and sighed before turning away. D stepped forward silently, coming up behind Elizabeth.

"Permission to speak freely, ma'am?" D asked evenly.

"Of course," Elizabeth turned to face her.

"Caldwell makes me twitchy, ma'am," D said quietly.

"Twitchy?" Elizabeth wondered curiously, "Could you be more specific?"

"He's overly ambitious, arrogant, and not in a typical military way. He's almost completely unconcerned that someone died aboard his ship, beyond the inconvenience it caused," D kept her voice soft, "He doesn't care for the Atlantis senior staff much, yourself included, ma'am. He's barely tolerating your collective presence on the ship."

"Colonel Caldwell was passed over for Military Commander of the City," Elizabeth explained dryly, "and I had a great deal to do with that."

"Understood, ma'am," D inclined her head, barely hiding the small smile on her face, "Perhaps I should start studying the Daedalus' personnel files as well."

"You can start in the morning," Elizabeth said easily, "If you really think it's necessary."

"Good night again, ma'am," D tapped Elizabeth on the outside of her wrist before she turned to leave, "Try to get some sleep."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"I already told you, I'm fine," Rodney lowered the oxygen mask from his face.

"He's right," Carson lifted Rodney's hand with the mask back to his face, "It appears he didn't inhale enough toxins to cause any permanent damage, although a few more seconds of exposure and it would have been quite a different story."

"Thank you, Doctor," Caldwell nodded in dismissal.

Carson nodded, motioning to the corpsmen standing nearby and leaving. As soon as Carson turned his back, Rodney dropped the mask again.

Caldwell spoke evenly once Carson and the corpsmen were gone, "I assume this time we can definitely rule out random malfunctions."

"Lindstrom found something," Rodney responded shortly, "He was trying to tell me what it was when the leak happened."

"What were you looking for?" Elizabeth asked calmly.

"We were trying to trace the source of the power spike that killed Dr. Monroe," Rodney answered easily.

"Who else knew what you were doing?" Caldwell questioned.

"A lot of people knew we were running diagnostics, but no one knew we were in that particular room at that exact moment," Rodney gestured towards the small room behind them.

"Security cameras," John said thoughtfully, moving to stand next to Elizabeth, "If the person who killed Monroe was able to get into the system to erase evidence, there's no reason he couldn't do the same thing to keep tabs on the investigation."

"Assuming it's a he," Rodney snarked.

"How many personnel onboard have the technical skills to do something like this?" Caldwell asked, a small scowl forming on his face.

"Almost everybody," Rodney huffed, "That's what you get for assembling a team of brilliant scientists."

"Not everyone. Eighty-one members of the Atlantis Expedition," D answered automatically, her head tilted back on the wall she was leaning against, "Not including Dr. McKay, Dr. Monroe, Dr. Lindstrom, and myself. Forty-nine of the Daedalus crew members, twenty-two of whom were on duty at the time of the accident."

"Wait, what?" Rodney whirled around to face her, "How do you know that?"

"I memorized the personnel files," D lifted her head to look at Rodney.

"Why would you do that?" Rodney asked with disbelief.

"It's my job," D shrugged.

"And you are…?" John questioned.

"No one important," D smiled politely.

"I can't believe it would be one of our own people," Elizabeth insisted, drawing attention back to her, "Isn't it possible there's an intruder onboard?"

"We used the life-signs detector to do a head count," Caldwell shook his head, "We didn't get any extra signals."

"Well, a hibernating Wraith, they can avoid detection," Elizabeth reminded him.

"We've seen that tactic before," John agreed, "Beam in, lay low, then look for the chance to conduct sabotage."

"That was on Atlantis," Caldwell argued, "It's been at least two months since this ship encountered the Wraith. There's no way one of them could have stowed onboard that long."

"He's right," Rodney said reluctantly, "They did a full decontamination sweep back on Earth. They would've found something."

"All right, then," Caldwell turned to the airman waiting behind him, "As of this moment, I want all civilian personnel confined to their quarters."

"What?" Elizabeth asked incredulously.

"Present company excepted, of course," Caldwell turned back to Elizabeth.

"Uh, Colonel, with all due respect, some of those people could be extremely helpful in the investigation," Rodney pointed out.

"I'm sorry, Doctor, but I can't trust any of them for the simple reason that I didn't have any say in their selection," Caldwell looked at Elizabeth pointedly, "Somebody else was in charge of that process."

Caldwell left, the airman trailing behind him.

Elizabeth looked over to D, raising a curious eyebrow, "I thought you were going to wait until the morning."

"I don't sleep much, ma'am," D responded easily.

"I see that," Elizabeth said wryly, "Did you get through all of the Daedalus personnel already?"

"I started at the top and I've made it through the majority. I only had a couple hours, ma'am," a smile quirked onto D's face but was immediately replaced by a neutral expression, "If you'd like, I can finish reviewing them and compiling profiles while I'm confined to my quarters."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Elizabeth shook her head.

"The confinement or the review, ma'am?" D asked cautiously.

"The confinement," Elizabeth replied calmly, "I assume you're going to review the files no matter what I say."

"I follow your orders, ma'am," D inclined her head respectfully, "If you don't want me to, I won't. But I do think it's prudent, considering."

"You really think so?" Elizabeth frowned slightly.

"Dr. Weir," D flicked her glance to where John and Rodney were still watching the two of them curiously, "My job is to assist you in every way possible. That includes analyzing all available data and offering you my assessment of any given situation."

"Even if I don't listen to your assessment?" Elizabeth asked thoughtfully.

"Even then, ma'am," D nodded solemnly.


	4. Reaction

Elizabeth watched as Rodney moved around the consoles, unceremoniously pushing the Daedalus crew members out of the way as he worked.

Rodney finally paused when he bumped into John and scowled slightly as he looked up at the taller man, "Do you mind?"

"This is what I do when I have problems with my laptop," John moved out of the way to the other side of the console, "I turn it off and then I turn it on again."

"I think this is a little bit more complicated than that," Elizabeth said calmly. She heard D whisper rapidly from her position next to Hermiod, the two of them having a mumbled conversation.

"I'm just saying that if we're taking a page from the John Sheppard book of computer repair, we're really desperate," John insisted.

Rodney ignored him, reaching up to tap his radio, "All right, Colonel, we're ready."

D moved away from Hermiod, coming to stand behind Elizabeth as Caldwell's voice came over the PA, "_All personnel. This is Colonel Caldwell. Prepare for a full system shutdown_."

The crew members in the engineering room and in the hallway beyond stopped moving, everyone stilling to prepare for the shutdown.

D lifted her left hand, placing it gently on Elizabeth's right shoulder as Rodney gave Hermiod the signal. The ship was plunged into darkness for a couple long minutes before Elizabeth heard Hermiod reach over to restart the system. The lights came back on and D dropped her hand, earning a curious glance from John as she moved quickly back over by Hermiod, looking down at his screens.

"_Engine room, what's our status_?" Caldwell's voice came over the radio.

"All systems are functioning normally," Rodney replied smugly, "No sign of the virus. Looks like it worked, Colonel."

"May I suggest we vacate this system?" Hermiod advised, "Our current position may well have been compromised."

"_Can you give me hyperdrive_?" Caldwell questioned.

"That will take longer to get back online," Hermiod informed him.

"I can get you sub-light," Rodney gave Hermiod a haughty look as he spoke into the radio.

Elizabeth's relief lasted only a brief moment before Hermiod mumbled something and D cleared her throat loudly.

"Dr. McKay?" D asked evenly.

"Yes, yes, I see it," Rodney started working furiously at his console again, "Damn it!"

"_Engine room, what's happening_?" Caldwell questioned.

"The virus. It's back," Rodney moved quickly over to Hermiod's console, glancing at the screen before moving back to his own, "Now it's got full control of sub-light navigation."

"You said all systems were clean," John pointed out.

"They were," Rodney insisted, "When we did the reboot, there was no sign of the virus. This shouldn't be happening."

Rodney moved over to Hermiod's console again, raising his hand to press it against his chin in thought. Elizabeth heard the voice of the helmsman in the background on her radio, telling Caldwell of their new course.

"What happened?" Elizabeth looked over to Hermiod and D.

"I'm not sure what happened, ma'am," D answered without looking up from her study of the consoles, "Dr. McKay is correct, the virus was gone."

"The virus returned almost immediately after we re-started the system," Hermiod informed them.

"At the risk of repeating myself," John said carefully, his gaze following Rodney as he moved back to his console, "I thought you said we wiped it out."

"We did," Rodney responded, "We must have missed something."

"And it's going to crash us into a sun?" Elizabeth inquired.

"Not exactly," D replied shortly.

"A more precise calculation of our heading shows that we will not collide with the star, but rather make a close approach, near its coronasphere," Hermiod agreed, "The ship will survive, but the radiation will kill everyone on board."

"Why kill everyone if they already have full navigational control?" Elizabeth asked, her frustration finally leaking through in her voice.

"The virus has access to our database," Rodney snarked, "It knows our tactics, our tendencies…"

"They know we'd destroy the ship before we'd allow it to fall into Wraith hands," John concluded.

"How could a computer virus survive with no system to inhabit?" D looked over to Rodney, a peculiar expression on her face, "If we shut everything down, there was no place for it to go."

"Wait a minute," Rodney straightened, "There was a situation similar to this back at Stargate Command. I remember reading the report. An alien entity took control of the base computer, so they did a system shutdown to destroy it. It survived by loading itself onto a MALP."

"Okay," Elizabeth said warily, "We don't have any MALPs."

"No, but we've got a bay full of F-302s," Rodney pointed towards the door, "We already know the virus can upload itself onto the ship's navigational computers, but it could've used any of those ships as a hiding place while we wiped the Daedalus system clean. It's the only possible explanation."

"_Это не единственное бозможное объяснение, но самое вероятное_," D muttered quietly. [Russian: Not the only possible explanation, but the most probable one.]

"What did you say?" Rodney questioned sharply.

"As you say, Dr. McKay," D looked down at Hermiod's console again.

"So…?" Elizabeth prompted, "What do we do?"

"So," Rodney replied, "we physically pull the memory storage modules from the 302s. We do another shutdown. That should do the trick."

"Contact the bridge," John commanded as he headed towards the door, Rodney following close behind him, "Tell Caldwell we're on our way to the bay now."

"Ma'am?" D stepped over to take Rodney's place at the consoles.

"Please," Elizabeth nodded.

D tapped her radio, quickly relaying John's message to Caldwell and cutting her radio off.

"This virus is fascinating," D said absently, studying the scrolling Wraith language on the screens in front of her, "The level of intelligence it displays is remarkable."

"Dr. Vaughn," Hermiod said evenly, "May I remind you, this particular virus, fascinating though it may be, is currently attempting to kill everyone on this ship through intense solar radiation?"

"Yes, thank you, Hermiod," D gave him a flat look, "I was simply making a comment on the ingeniousness of the design. It's not like I want to keep it around as a pet."

"I should hope not," Elizabeth said dryly.

"I'd think that an advanced race such as the Asgard," D continued with a small huff, "would be able to appreciate the aesthetics of an artificially intelligent computer virus."

"I did not say it was not interesting," Hermiod insisted, "Under other circumstances, I would share your enthusiasm, however-"

"_Hermiod_," Caldwell's voice over the radio interrupted, "_I need to be able to beam Lt. Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay to the 302 bay. The virus has cut-off all access routes_."

"It will take a moment to make some adjustments to the transport system, Colonel Caldwell," Hermiod responded, already pressing the buttons on his console, "Please stand-by."

"The virus is reacting too quickly," D frowned down at her console, muttering quietly to herself, "It's almost as if…"

"The transport system is ready, Colonel Caldwell," Hermiod announced.

"_Activating transport beam now_," Caldwell said evenly.

"Raise the shield in the fighter bay," D commanded, looking up to Hermiod suddenly, "Now."

System alarms began blaring as Hermiod pressed a series of buttons on his console.

"_Bridge to engine room_!" Caldwell shouted over the radio, "_Beam them out now_!"

"What's happening?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Colonel Sheppard, Dr. McKay, can you hear me?" Hermiod asked calmly.

"_Yeah, we're reading you_," John's voice came over the radio and Elizabeth let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"I have raised the fighter bay shield in order to prevent the atmosphere from escaping," Hermiod informed them, "However, the virus has invaded the system and it is only a matter of time before it gains control. Therefore, I suggest you complete your task as quickly as possible."

"Can you keep the virus out of the shield long enough for them to finish?" Elizabeth directed the question to Hermiod after several tense moments.

"I am attempting to do so, Dr. Weir," Hermiod replied.

"The virus is not merely reacting to our attempts to get rid of it, ma'am," D explained as Elizabeth turned back to her with a questioning look, "It's anticipating them. Once it sealed off all open routes, our most obvious move would be to beam Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay into the bay. The logical counter-move for the virus was to open the doors, decompressing the bay. That way we wouldn't be able to pull the computers from the 302s and the virus would have eliminated two of its more serious threats."

"Okay, I understand why this virus would see Rodney as a threat," Elizabeth said with a small frown, "but John as well?"

"Dr. McKay has the technical skills and intelligence level to be a threat to the virus, which obviously makes him a target," D responded, tilting her head to the side, "Lt. Colonel Sheppard is…wildly unpredictable in his responses and reactions, ma'am. That makes him very dangerous to any being, including this artificially intelligent virus, which relies heavily on logic to anticipate and counteract any moves we might make."

"I see," Elizabeth bit back her smile.

"I can no longer prevent the virus from gaining complete control of the shield," Hermiod stated after a minute.

"Well, beam them out!" Elizabeth ordered quickly.

"Unfortunately," Hermiod looked up from his console, "it appears I have lost control of that system as well."

"_Colonel Sheppard, do you read me_?" Caldwell's voice came over the radio, "_Colonel Sheppard, do you read_?"

"_This is Sheppard. We're okay_," Sheppard answered after a moment, "_We managed to get in the last F-302 before we lost atmosphere. Any chance you could beam us out_?"

"Sorry, John, we lost the transport beam," Elizabeth told him, "You're going to have to sit still for a while."

"_We pulled all the memory units_," Rodney informed them, "_Another shutdown should work_."

"Understood," Elizabeth acknowledged.

"_Engine room, this is the bridge_," Caldwell said, "_We don't have a lot of time before we approach lethal radiation levels._"

"Most of the shutdown protocols are still in place from our first attempt," Hermiod replied, "This will only take a few minutes."

"_Let's hope we have a few minutes_," Caldwell stated.

After a couple minutes of silent working Hermiod finally spoke again, "Colonel Caldwell, I am ready to attempt another shutdown."

"_All hands, this is Colonel Caldwell_," Caldwell said over the PA, "_We're going to give this another shot_."

"Dr. Weir," D said quietly, "Please come stand over here."

"Making sure you don't lose me when the lights go off?" Elizabeth smiled wryly, coming to stand by D by the console.

"Maybe I'm just afraid of the dark and I want to hold someone's hand, ma'am," D raised an eyebrow, laying her right hand gently on Elizabeth's forearm.

"_We're initiating total system shutdown now_," Caldwell announced.

Hermiod pressed the keys on his console and the ship was once again plunged into darkness. Hermiod waited a minute and tapped the button again, the lights coming back up as he spoke, "Re-initializing."

"Did it work?" Elizabeth asked as D moved her hand away.

"We will know momentarily," Hermiod answered evenly.

"_This is Sheppard_," John said over the radio, "_What just happened_?"

"_Stand by_," Caldwell replied, "_We're trying to figure that out_."

There was a short pause before Caldwell spoke again, "It didn't work. We're still on course for the coronasphere."

Hermiod mumbled under his breath as Elizabeth ducked her head with a frown.

"Wow, Hermiod," D smirked, "You could make a sailor blush with a mouth like that."

Hermiod mumbled something else at D, not bothering to look up from his console.

"Now, that wasn't a very nice thing to say," D pouted, "If we're all going to die in a puddle of radioactive goo, the least you could do is be polite beforehand."

"There has got to be something else we can do," Elizabeth insisted.

"_Engine room, this is Sheppard_," John's determined voice came over the radio, "_Prepare to initiate another shutdown on my command_."

"John, what are you doing?" Elizabeth asked warily.

"_Getting rid of the last place the virus can hide_," John answered firmly.

"_You'd better make this quick, Sheppard_," Caldwell responded, "_Radiation levels are beginning to rise on the outer hull._"

"He's going after the last 302," D said thoughtfully, "Hermiod, could you show us his progress please?"

Hermiod pressed a few keys, "I have them on my screens. The computer-controlled ship is preparing to fire."

The image on the screen behind Hermiod showed the two ships suddenly changing positions.

"Nice move," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed," Hermiod agreed.

"Wildly unpredictable, ma'am," D shook her head.

"Radiation levels in the Colonel's ship are beginning to rise," Hermiod informed them.

The image on Hermiod's screens fuzzed out.

"What happened?" Elizabeth questioned Hermiod.

"They're approaching the coronasphere," Hermiod answered evenly, "There is too much interference."

"How long can they survive those radiation levels?" Elizabeth asked carefully.

"I believe it has already been too long," Hermiod stated.

"John, can you read me?" Elizabeth looked down anxiously, "Oh, please. Rodney, come in."

"_Daedalus, this is Sheppard_," John answered after a small pause, "_Target is destroyed. I repeat. Target is destroyed. If you try one more shutdown, I think it might just work_."

"Well done, both of you," Elizabeth gave a relieved smile, "You had us a little worried there for a minute."

"_Sorry about that_," John replied.

"_This is Caldwell_," Caldwell interjected, "_We'll rendezvous as soon as we've eradicated the virus once and for all_."

"_Roger that_," John acknowledged, "_Sheppard out_."

* * *

**Special thanks to reader Zoja for fixing my Russian!**


	5. Figure It Out

Elizabeth stepped into the briefing room, D following a step behind and to the left, and the doors swung shut behind them. Elizabeth was wearing her base uniform, gray slacks and matching gray jacket with the red panels on the front that marked her as the civilian leader of the expedition, fully unzipped to reveal the red tee-shirt underneath. Her short brown curls fell around her neck above the collar. D was in a similar uniform, her jacket with the same red panels zipped up halfway with a gray-blue uniform shirt underneath, the collar unzipped only to the base of her throat, and her gray slacks pressed neatly. Her burgundy hair was pulled back into a low, sensible bun, bangs swept neatly to the side.

Around the table sat the rest of the senior staff, all of them dressed in variations of the Atlantis gray uniform. John, Teyla, and Lorne sat on one side of the u-shaped table while Rodney, Carson, and Zelenka occupied the other. The chair at the center, between John and Rodney, was left open for Elizabeth.

"Good morning, everyone," Elizabeth greeted them cheerfully as she slid into her chair, setting her PDA down in front of her, "I just wanted to check in, see how everyone's settling in, now that we've been home a couple days."

"Well, none of the new guys have blown anything up yet," Rodney snarked, "but it's still early."

"Were we able to get permanent living quarters assigned to all of the new expedition members?" Elizabeth turned around to D, who had taken a position standing with her back against the wall behind Elizabeth.

"All civilian personnel are now assigned rooms, ma'am," D consulted her tablet, "There are still two platoons of Marines, as well as twenty-seven other members of the military, including Major Lorne, that haven't been assigned individual quarters. They are still sharing the temporary group quarters."

"We're pretty used to sharing space, ma'am," Lorne said easily, "There's no rush."

"Still, let's try to get them into their quarters by the end of the week," Elizabeth looked over her shoulder to D.

"Yes, ma'am," D nodded.

"How are the new members of your departments doing?" Elizabeth looked around the table, "Any problems so far?"

"There was a minor scuffle over some lab space," Zelenka straightened his glasses, "But it has been settled."

"Doctors Schultz and Kappel?" D asked quietly, making a note on her tablet.

"Yes," Zelenka answered, looking up at D oddly, "How did you know that?"

"I memorized the personnel files," D looked over to Radek, "They work in similar fields so they've been competing for most of their professional lives. Buď se do roka navzájem zabijou, nebo se spolu vyspí." [Czech: They'll either end up killing each other or sleeping together within the year.]

Zelenka quickly smothered a laugh before he asked curiously, "Mluvíte česky?" [Czech: You speak Czech?]

"Ano," D agreed easily. [Czech: Yes.]

"Is there going to be a problem with the two of them?" Elizabeth directed the question to Zelenka.

"I doubt it," Zelenka shook his head, "Even if there is a problem, I can handle it."

"All right, let me know if that changes," Elizabeth nodded, "Was there anything else?"

"I'm missing several cases of supplies for the infirmary," Carson spoke up, "I know they were on the Daedalus when we left Earth, but they seem to have vanished somewhere between here and there."

"Anything important?" Elizabeth inquired.

"The most important were the cases that contained my new surgical tools," Carson replied easily, "If those got lost somewhere, it'll take me ages to get the requisitions for new ones approved."

"We've got three extra supply cases in one of the armories," Lorne informed them, "The labels on them were damaged in transport. We haven't opened them yet, but they could be your tools."

"Let's have them opened after the meeting," Elizabeth decided, "to find out what's inside and arrange to have them moved to the appropriate place."

"Yes, ma'am," Lorne nodded.

"Even if those are my missing surgical implements," Carson pointed out, "I'm still missing two more cases, both containing supplies for the field medic kits."

"Dr. Vaughn?" Elizabeth turned to look at her.

"I'll contact the Daedalus when this meeting is done, ma'am," D inclined her head, "It's possible some of Atlantis' supplies got misplaced when they were unloading the ship."

"Good," Elizabeth started to turn back around to the table but stopped, "Are you going to stand behind me the whole time?"

D blinked twice, tilting her head to one side, "Ma'am?"

"Why don't you get a chair and sit down?" Elizabeth gestured towards the empty chairs at the end of the table.

"That's really not necessary," D insisted neutrally, "I'm fine standing, ma'am."

"I'd rather not have to look over my shoulder every time I want to ask you a question," Elizabeth said dryly, "Sit down."

"Yes, ma'am," D set her tablet down on the table. She quietly pulled a chair from the end of the table, rolling it to the space between Rodney and Elizabeth before sitting down stiffly, eyes firmly on the table in front of her.

"How are we doing with the increased security patrols?" Elizabeth looked over to John.

"Lorne and I have come up with a tentative schedule," John leaned back comfortably in his chair, "combining the first-wavers with the new guys until they get the hang of things."

"What about getting the new expedition members cleared for off-world travel?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Well, the military were all cleared before we left the SGC," Lorne responded, "We've been working on getting most of the scientists cleared since we arrived here, but it's slow going."

"Is there any way we can speed up the process?" Elizabeth wondered.

"I can assign some more men," John offered.

"There are already sixteen people assigned to clearing civilians for off-world travel," D said absently, scrolling through her tablet, "Assigning more won't make a difference."

"Why wouldn't it?" John inquired curiously.

"My apologies, Dr. Weir, Colonel Sheppard," D's whole body flinched as her head snapped up, wide-eyed gaze shifting between Elizabeth and John, "I didn't mean to speak out of turn."

"It's all right," Elizabeth said lightly, "What did you mean?"

"Are you sure, ma'am?" D asked cautiously.

"Please," Elizabeth nodded, "Go ahead and explain."

"All available space designated for firearms training is already occupied," D stated, straightening to attention in her chair, "There are only three firing ranges, one of which is earmarked for rifle training and practice only. Of the two remaining firing ranges, each has only enough space for six people at a time. Current protocol dictates that each civilian be trained for a minimum of six hours on a standard-issue nine millimeter, a Beretta 92FS on this base, passing their final qualification with a score of seventy-eight or above before they can be cleared for off-world travel. There were one hundred four civilians of the Atlantis Expedition on the Daedalus this trip who needed to be cleared for off-world travel, not including myself. As of 0800 this morning, Major Lorne's team had cleared twenty-three of them. Unless Lt. Colonel Sheppard is willing to either re-designate the third range as a combined rifle/pistol range, changing its current configuration, or clear another area large enough to add an additional pistol range, there isn't enough space for additional groups and therefore no need for additional instructors. If Major Lorne's team keeps up at their current rate, assuming a minimum of seventy-five percent of the civilians pass on their first try and a minimum of three groups at each range a day, everyone should be cleared in three days. Of course, that estimate only takes into account their weapons qualifications, it doesn't include any other off-world protocols they are required to learn, or any medical exams they need to undergo. Taking all of that into account, I'd estimate you'll be able to start forming additional off-world teams in…six days, maybe seven."

There was a stunned silence in the room after D finished her explanation. Elizabeth looked at her PDA on the table, trying to hide the small smile on her face.

"What?" Rodney gaped.

"Which part would you like me to repeat?" D asked evenly.

"How in the world do you know all that?" Lorne's eyes widened in surprise.

"It's my job," D smiled politely.

"I'm going to ask again," John questioned evenly, "Who are you?"

"Dr. Vaughn is my new executive assistant," Elizabeth answered diplomatically, smile replaced with a calm expression as she looked over to John.

"Did the IOA assign her to you?" John looked between Elizabeth and D suspiciously.

"General O'Neill offered Dr. Vaughn the position," Elizabeth replied evenly, "And after meeting her, I agreed."

"Since when do we have secretaries on Atlantis?" Rodney scoffed, "We have enough useless people as it is – we don't need another one."

"I am not a secretary, Dr. McKay," D said coolly, "I am Dr. Weir's assistant and I assure you, I am far from useless."

"Right, glorified secretary," Rodney waved a hand dismissively, "Whatever. Doesn't answer my question."

"Rodney," Elizabeth cautioned.

"You are absolutely correct, Dr. McKay," D responded steadily, turning her icy stare to Rodney, "I didn't answer your question. Perhaps it would help if I listed my qualifications for you. I hold two PhDs, linguistics and political science, both finished in three years each, both with over a 4.0 GPA, and both from the top schools in those fields. I am fluent in forty different languages, including all those spoken by current expedition members. I have an IQ within four points of your own and an eidetic memory. I can recite the name of every member of this expedition, both civilian and military, and tell you each person's rank or department, as well as their specialties. I can also tell you exactly what use each room in Atlantis is currently designated for and exactly where it is located within the city. Before General O'Neill offered me the position here, I spent the last decade working for the United States government doing high-risk threat assessments. I am no more a 'secretary' than you are a high school science teacher. It would be prudent of you to gather more of the facts before you make a decision as to my value."

"Four points higher or lower?" Rodney narrowed his eyes at her.

"Now, Rodney," D leaned towards him, voice dropping to a near-purr, "Do you really think I'm going to tell you that after you called me a glorified secretary?"

"I bet it's lower," Rodney said haughtily.

"How did you come to that conclusion?" D arched an eyebrow at Rodney.

"You'd tell me if it was higher," Rodney insisted, his eyes roaming over her, "to prove your point."

"I've already proven my point, Doctor, whether you grasped it or not," D smirked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her hands across her lap, "So why would I tell you when it's much more entertaining to watch your reactions as you try to figure it out?"

"Are you two quite finished?" Elizabeth said evenly.

D turned back to Elizabeth with a small scowl, "Je ne vais pas me asseoir ici et être insulté par ce...civile." [French: I will not sit here and be insulted by this…civilian.]

"Really, Dr. Vaughn?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at her.

"My apologies, ma'am," D ducked her head to look at the table again, "I did not mean…"

"What did she say?" Rodney sat forward, glaring at D.

"Never mind," Elizabeth gave them both a firm look to keep them silent, "Can we get back on track please? Where were we?"

"Clearing civilians for off-world travel," John answered with an amused smirk, "and how to speed up the process."

*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*

D walked into the infirmary later that afternoon, several men in uniform carrying two large metal crates behind her. There were a dozen people milling around, chatting as they put supplies away.

"Has anyone seen Dr. Beckett?" D called into the busy room.

Carson appeared from around a corner, "Yes?"

"I've located your missing med kit supplies," D gestured to the men behind her, "Where would you like them?"

"Just over there, lads," Carson pointed to a large stack of boxes against the far wall, "Thank you."

"They got mixed up with the Daedalus infirmary's supplies," D made a note on her tablet, "Did Major Lorne bring over the other three cases?"

"Aye," Carson nodded, "About an hour ago. Seems someone decided that since the cases contained metal, they belonged in the armory."

"Hmmm," D looked up at Carson with an odd expression, "I'll assume that made sense to whoever was in charge at the time. Did you have a minute to talk, Dr. Beckett?"

"Of course, dear," Carson smiled.

D glanced around the busy room, "In your office perhaps?"

"This way," Carson turned, leading the way through the people moving around to a small room at the back of the infirmary.

D followed Carson into the room, waving a hand over the crystals to shut the door behind her.

"What seems to be the problem, love?" Carson asked.

"I've been…" D hesitated, tilting her head to the side, "…hearing a sort of humming, or singing maybe, since we arrived on Atlantis. Not in my ears though, more like…in the back of my mind? It's not constant and it changes…well, feelings, for lack of a better word."

"Oh," Carson smiled widely, "That's just the City."

"The city?" D wondered.

"Aye," Carson nodded, "You tested positive for the ATA gene. Quite a strong expression, in fact. All the ATA positive people can sense Ancient tech in some form or another. Personally, I get different smells from different tech. Dr. Kusanagi claims there are different tastes for different things. Rodney insists that he can feel what something is by touching it. The effects vary from person to person."

"That wasn't in any of the reports," D scowled slightly.

"Well, no," Carson said sheepishly, "It's sort of an unspoken rule among those of us who have the gene that we don't say anything about it."

"Understandable," D agreed easily, "since doing so would likely involve many rounds of psychiatric evaluations."

"Exactly," Carson grinned, "I've been monitoring the different effects, just in case there's any serious issues. For now, it's nothing to worry about, but do let me know if anything changes."

"This place is so…" D paused, searching for an appropriate word, "…peculiar."

"That it is," Carson agreed with a small laugh.

"May I ask you another question?" D inquired calmly.

"You can always ask me whatever questions you want, love," Carson assured her.

"Was I out of line this morning?" D looked down at the floor, "During my interactions with the senior staff, I mean."

"Did Elizabeth say something to you?" Carson asked cautiously.

"No, but…" D shrugged and looked back up at Carson, "It's just…neither General O'Neill nor Dr. Weir told me who I was supposed to be while here on Atlantis."

"Who you're supposed to be?" Carson wondered.

"I've spent my life pretending to be someone else in order to accomplish my mission," D explained, "I don't know how to interact with people as…a version of myself. I wouldn't have bothered you with this normally, but if I'm going to protect Dr. Weir, I need to know how to behave appropriately here."

"First of all," Carson started, "I'm absolutely certain that Dr. Weir would be the first person to say something if she thought you were out of line. Second of all, anyone who can handle Rodney as easily as you did deserves some sort of medal. You needn't be worried about speaking your mind in front of any of the staff. Although, you may have to worry about Rodney following you around asking about your IQ now."

"Actually," a small smile appeared on D's face, "Dr. McKay hacked into the personnel file I created for myself about two hours after the meeting. I assume he'll be satisfied with the information he finds there, at least temporarily."

"Temporarily," Carson laughed in agreement.

* * *

**Special thanks to reader Auguruj for fixing my Czech!**


	6. Offer

"After they scooped up Ford, the darts made a beeline for the gate. We tried to stop them, but…" John trailed off.

"You had him in your sights," Caldwell scoffed, "and you let him get away."

"I shot him once," John corrected, "It didn't slow him down."

"I shot him too," Rodney raised a finger.

"He ran into the beam," John insisted.

"Are you suggesting he wanted to be taken?" Elizabeth questioned.

"I think he saw it was the only way off the planet," John admitted.

"I can tell you from the quality time I spent with Ford," Rodney interjected, "he was definitely not thinking straight."

"Now, thanks to you, he's in enemy hands with information that could compromise all of us," Caldwell turned to walk out of the conference room.

"I don't think he'll give us away," John protested.

Caldwell turned back towards John in the doorway, "Oh, thank you so much for your assurance, Colonel. I'll be sure to include your feelings in my report."

"_Он скоро отправляет, да_?" D asked quietly after Caldwell was gone. [Russian: He leaves soon, yes?]

"_Да_," Elizabeth nodded at D, then turned back to Teyla, "You said you got a gate address from our guest of his homeworld?" [Russian: Yes.]

"We did," Teyla agreed easily, "But Ronon said he has been a Runner for seven years. It is likely there have been many changes on his homeworld in that time."

"There's no telling what his planet is like now," John crossed his arms across his chest, "Especially if they were fighting the Wraith."

"D," Elizabeth turned to her, "Could you ask Chuck prepare a MALP and have it sent to the address Ronon provided?"

"Of course, ma'am," D inclined her head and turned to leave.

"Your name is really 'D'?" Rodney inquired snidely, "That's not just some pretentious thing you made up for yourself to sound cooler?"

"Isn't that what you read in my file?" D asked calmly, not slowing her pace as she left.

Rodney's cheeks pinked as everyone in the room turned to face him.

"McKay, what did you do?" John questioned warily.

"I may have checked out Dr. Vaughn's personnel file after the first staff meeting," Rodney admitted.

"Rodney," Elizabeth scolded.

"I'm sorry," Rodney's tone implied he wasn't really all that sorry, "but this girl just shows up out of nowhere and she has access to everything about Atlantis? She's always around, Elizabeth, following you like a lost puppy or something. How do we know we can trust her? And come to think of it, how did she know I accessed her file? I know I didn't leave a trail."

"I'm not even going to comment," Elizabeth straightened, "on how incredibly inappropriate it is for you to hack your way into personnel files that you do not have clearance to be reading. I will, however, remind you that Dr. Vaughn has the trust of both General O'Neill and myself."

"But she's-" Rodney started.

"Unless that's not good enough for you?" Elizabeth crossed her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow at Rodney.

Rodney's mouth snapped shut. Elizabeth stared at him a moment longer, then picked up her PDA, heading out of the room.

"And Dr. McKay?" Elizabeth turned back in the doorway and narrowed her eyes at Rodney, "I wouldn't let Dr. Vaughn hear you call her a lost puppy. It wouldn't end well for you."

*_AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM_*

"I'm not sure it's a good idea, John," Elizabeth turned from the large monitor, making a note on her tablet.

"Elizabeth, you've got to see this guy in action," John insisted, following her as she moved behind the consoles, "He is an incredible shot. None of my guys could beat him in a fight and he's ex-military."

"Yeah, not a military on Earth," Elizabeth reminded him.

"Well, look, the guy's got no place to go," John countered.

"You're not just being charitable?" Elizabeth looked up at him.

"No, I'm not," John persisted, "And I think he'd make a great addition to my team."

"We don't know anything about him," Elizabeth maintained.

"Well, what's there to know?" John asked with cocky smile.

"Dr. Weir," D spoke from the small walkway to Elizabeth's office, "You have a meeting with Dr. Hanson and Dr. Terris from environmental science. They're waiting in your office."

Elizabeth nodded in acknowledgment before turning back to John, "Anything would be helpful, really. He's not very forthcoming."

"He's been on the run from the Wraith for the past seven years. What do you expect?" John questioned, "Listen. Just talk to the guy. You owe him that, at least."

"Okay," Elizabeth handed her tablet to D, accepting the one she held out in return.

"Dr. Weir has a half an hour later this afternoon," D informed John as Elizabeth went into her office, sitting down behind her desk to talk to the waiting scientists, "I'll make sure she gets the chance to speak with Specialist Dex. Whether or not he actually says anything is up to him."

"Thanks," John gave her a lopsided smile.

"There's no need to thank me, Colonel Sheppard," D's attention was focused on the tablet, her fingers moving quickly over the screen as she typed one-handed, "I'm not guaranteeing that Dr. Weir will allow Specialist Dex to serve on your team, only that they will have the opportunity to speak."

"Right," John drawled carefully, "That's what I meant."

D stopped typing and looked up from the tablet, blinking twice at John before she replied smoothly, "Of course, Colonel."

They stared at each other awkwardly until D raised an eyebrow at John.

"Was there something else you needed, Colonel Sheppard?" D asked evenly.

"Look," John started, "about McKay hacking into your file."

"There was no harm done," D looked back to the tablet, typing away again, "Dr. McKay's response to my presence here was to be expected. I'm surprised he managed to wait as long as he did. I originally predicted he would access my file immediately after the meeting. Of course, the time variance could be explained by him getting side-tracked by something in the lab. I'll have to check the lab reports to make sure."

"You knew he was going to look at your file?" John asked skeptically.

"By refusing to answer Dr. McKay's question about my intelligence directly," D answered idly as she scrolled through text on the tablet, "I issued a challenge that his ego couldn't ignore. The body language I presented, as well as the tone of voice and specific phrases I used, were designed to make him simultaneously curious and suspicious. The two most likely outcomes of our conversation were him accessing my file or confronting me directly about my behavior. Given Dr. McKay's history, a direct confrontation was unlikely in this instance."

John stared at D for a moment before he spoke cautiously, "In this instance?"

"I highly doubt that will be the last time Dr. McKay and I clash," D looked up at Sheppard again, "He'll continue to push until he gets the result he desires."

"Which is?" John wondered.

"For me to roll over and let him have his way," D smirked as she turned towards Elizabeth's office, "Or for me to push back. Enjoy the rest of your day, Colonel Sheppard."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

The doors to the gym slid open to reveal Ronon instructing a small group of Marines with a short wooden practice knife.

"Ronon?" Elizabeth asked politely, "Can I have a word?"

"Here," Ronon handed the knife to the nearest Marine. He came over to stand in front of Elizabeth and D, his arms folded across his chest as he waited for her to speak.

"I understand Colonel Sheppard extended an invitation to you to join his team," Elizabeth started.

"Yeah, he did," Ronon grunted in response.

"Well, he was supposed to speak to me about that first," Elizabeth informed him.

"Okay," Ronon replied.

"Look, it's not that I don't trust you, or value any contributions you may have to make," Elizabeth continued after a small pause, "Or that you will make, if you do join us, it's just… it is a rather big decision."

Ronon only continued to stare at Elizabeth silently.

"So how do you feel?" Elizabeth asked calmly.

"I'm thinking about it," Ronon answered gruffly.

"Okay. Good," Elizabeth smiled awkwardly, "Well, I'm thinking about it, too."

The two of them continued to stare at each other uneasily for another long minute.

"Dr. Weir," D's calm voice broke the uncomfortable silence, "Would you mind if Specialist Dex and I spoke for a moment in private?"

Ronon shifted his gaze to D, but didn't say anything.

"_Vous n'obtiendrez rien de lui, madame_," D held Ronon's stare, but spoke to Elizabeth. [French: You will not get anything from him, ma'am.]

"_Êtes-vous sûre_?" Elizabeth looked between the two of them. [French: Are you sure?]

"_Vous avez besoin d'une évaluation, madame_," D turned to look at Elizabeth, "_Je peux le faire parler avec moi_." [French: You need an evaluation, ma'am.] [French: I can get him to talk with me.]

After a short pause, Elizabeth nodded.

"Gentleman," D raised her voice to be heard by the Marines, "Would you give us the room for a few minutes please?"

The Marines looked over at the two women, then started filing quietly out of the room.

"We'll be fine, Sergeant," D smiled politely at the armed guard still waiting just inside the entrance.

"Ma'am?" the guard looked to Elizabeth for permission.

"Specialist Dex won't hurt me," D assured them both, looking up at Ronon, "Will you, Ronon?"

"I won't," Ronon insisted.

"All right," Elizabeth agreed reluctantly, "I'll meet you in my office later, Dr. Vaughn."

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head as Elizabeth followed the guard out of the room, waving the door closed behind them.

Ronon watched as the small red-haired woman surveyed him from top to bottom before tilting her head to one side.

"How many weapons am I wearing right now, Specialist?" D asked steadily, watching as he straightened.

"Two knives," Ronon studied her carefully, "No, three."

"You're going to have to follow orders if you stay," D offered a small smile.

"I know," Ronon finally uncrossed his arms, letting them rest at his sides, "You her protector?"

"You could say that," D nodded, "No one else knows, however. I'd appreciate it if you kept that information to yourself."

"Sure," Ronon shrugged, "But they'll figure it out."

"Not unless I want them to," D reached over slowly, laying her hand on Ronon's bicep gently, "My name is Dr. Vaughn, but I'd like it if you call me D."

"Ronon," he relaxed, offering a slight smile of his own.

"I'm glad you decided to stay, Ronon," D withdrew her hand, "Atlantis can use you and your skills. If you have any questions about the way things are done here, I'm sure Ms. Emmagan will be happy to help you."

"I haven't decided," Ronon insisted as D turned towards the door.

"Yes, you have," D smiled warmly over her shoulder as the door slid open, "Or you wouldn't be teaching those men."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

Elizabeth looked up from her work as D walked into her office from the control room.

"How did it go?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"Specialist Dex is career military, ma'am," D informed her, clasping her hands behind her back as she stood in front of Elizabeth's desk, "At least he was before the Wraith got a hold of him. Most likely joined at a young age with a desire to protect his home and family. He knows how to follow orders, even if he doesn't agree with them, so as long as Colonel Sheppard doesn't lose his respect, there should be no problem there. He also knows how to give orders and expects them to be followed when he does, which might be a problem with some of Atlantis' military until they learn he can be trusted. His physical skills have not diminished during his time as a runner, in fact, they may have improved. He correctly identified me your protection the moment I spoke and knew I was carrying concealed weapons, something no one else in the City has accomplished. He also understands the value of keeping that information hidden. He's skittish, aggressive, feral in some respects, and a bit touch-starved, which is completely understandable considering what he's been through, but that should fade with time. I believe that Ronon would be an extremely valuable asset for Atlantis."

"Anything else I should know about him before I make my final decision?" Elizabeth leaned back in her chair.

"He's going to be a distraction to many of the female members of the expedition," D said dryly, "and more than a few of the men. I overheard Nurse Jones say she would 'climb him like a tree' when I went to talk to Carson about Dr. McKay and Lt. Cadman's condition."

Elizabeth gave a quick grin before she sobered and asked seriously, "And how are they doing?"

"McKay seems to think he's come up with an idea to separate them and restore Cadman to her original body, ma'am," D informed her, "He sent Zelenka up here to retrieve some of the gate's control crystals."

"_Dr. Weir, Colonel Sheppard, Dr. Beckett_," Zelenka's voice came over the radio, "_Could you please come to the hangar bay? We are almost ready_."

"Speaking of," Elizabeth reached up to tap her earpiece, "I'm on my way, Dr. Zelenka."

* * *

**Special thanks to reader Zoja for fixing my Russian!**


	7. Outliers

"And you believe they might be willing to share some of this mineral?" Elizabeth asked into her radio.

"_Well, they seem open to it_," John replied easily, "_They don't get many trading opportunities coming through the gate_."

"Sounds promising," Elizabeth smiled.

"_There is, however_," John continued, "_the minor moral hiccup of their form of capital punishment_."

"I'm sorry?" Elizabeth wondered curiously.

"_They have an island_," Rodney explained, "_It's their own version of Alcatraz, where they send their worst criminals._"

"_And the gate is on the island, so_…" John trailed off.

"So the Wraith feed on the prisoners," Elizabeth concluded.

"_Yep_," John agreed.

"_Talk about cruel and unusual punishment_," Elizabeth shook her head.

"_I prefer lethal injection_," Rodney snarked, "_although I do have a certain fondness for the electric chair. Call me a romantic_."

"_The Wraith get what they want and the Olesians get left alone_," Ronon added, "_I'm surprised it works_."

"_He did, however_," John informed her, "_say that only the most violent criminals get sent there, and that it has been this way for hundreds of years._"

"_Do you kill all of your violent criminals on Earth_?" Teyla asked curiously.

"_Certain countries, yes_," Rodney answered.

"_Do we need to get into this right now_?" John questioned.

"Well, we do if we plan on doing business with these people," Elizabeth insisted, "I want to know more before I jump to any conclusions. I think I'll have to talk to the Magistrate personally. Let him know I'll be coming to the planet to discuss trade opportunities and then head on back here."

"_I'll let him know. We'll be back soon_," John assured her, "_See you in a little bit_."

Elizabeth motioned toward the tech and the gate cut off as D came over to Elizabeth.

"I'd recommend taking Major Lorne's team with us to Olesia, ma'am," D suggested quietly, "minus Dr. Parrish. Lorne is a decent diplomat and the two Marines on his team are patient and disciplined. The team will do well both if the negotiations go smoothly and if we run into any problems."

"You don't have to go with, Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth insisted, "I'll be fine with Major Lorne and his team."

"Hmmm," D tilted her head to the side, "Jack owes me a drink."

"What?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"Jack assumed that I would be the first to try to break our agreement," D answered with an amused smirk, "He even bet me a brand new bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label. I'm curious to see how he's going to get it here."

"All I said was…" Elizabeth trailed off when D raised an eyebrow at her. Elizabeth finished wryly, "I did warn you I would probably complain."

"Yes, ma'am," D agreed steadily.

"We'll leave after the debriefing with Sheppard's team," Elizabeth ordered easily.

"I'll be ready, ma'am," D nodded, "Dr. Zelenka called while you were speaking with Colonel Sheppard's team. It seems there was a minor explosion in one of the botany labs."

"Was anyone hurt?" Elizabeth questioned, a concerned frown appearing on her face.

"Dr. Brown is in the infirmary now, ma'am. She has a minor concussion and a few bruises," D informed her, "Security has been dispatched to the lab and Dr. Zelenka has already begun clean-up. Dr. Parrish is requesting that you come down to speak with him as soon as possible. It seems that several of the plant samples he brought back from M4G-610 have explosive properties when exposed to certain wavelengths of light. He was quite…_enthusiastic_ about the implications of explosive plants."

"Explosive plants?" Elizabeth asked warily.

"Yes, ma'am," D replied calmly.

"Right," Elizabeth sighed and shook her head, "I guess I'd better go speak with Dr. Parrish."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"All set?" Elizabeth asked as she came into the jumper.

"Ready to go," Lorne confirmed, "Still no word from them?"

"Nothing," Elizabeth shook her head as she sat.

"Don't worry," Lorne reassured her, "We'll find them."

"I was hoping to negotiate a trade agreement," Elizabeth said, "Now I'm worried I'll have to negotiate their release."

"Sheppard's team will be recovered, ma'am," D sat in the chair behind Elizabeth as the two Marines closed the ramp behind them.

"You're just trying to make me feel better," Elizabeth retorted.

"That's not really in my skill set, Dr. Weir," D tilted her head, "I was only stating the likely result of this excursion. Not including statistical outliers such as random puddle jumper malfunctions resulting in its destruction or one of the team members turning on the others and killing them, I believe we've covered the most probable outcomes with the combined skill sets of the people in the jumper. Your background with difficult negotiations on Earth, as well as the experience you've gained during your time with the SGC and the Atlantis expedition, makes you more than qualified to negotiate with the leadership of Olesia for both trade and the release of AR-1. With Major Lorne and his team covering the remainder of the likely probabilities and me covering the more unlikely possibilities, I believe the recovery of AR-1 is an extremely probable outcome."

"Dial the gate," Elizabeth ordered Lorne with an amused shake of her head, "but go to stealth mode the moment we're through."

"Yes, ma'am," Lorne pressed the keys on the jumper's DHD and lowered them into the gate room.

As soon as they were through the wormhole, Lorne switched the cloak on and headed away from the small island to the larger land mass.

"Is there anything you didn't take into account?" Lorne asked curiously, "About retrieving Sheppard and his team, I mean."

"Weather," D answered vaguely.

"The weather?" Lorne wondered.

"Because of the incident in the botany lab, I didn't have the time to research the weather before we left," D shrugged, leaning back in her chair, "It's possible this planet has unusual weather patterns that could have interfered with the jumper's systems. However, seeing the current weather, blue skies and sunny, I'd say the probability of weather related problems is slim."

"And the probability of the team killing each other?" Elizabeth inquired.

"Highly unlikely, but still a possibility. Specialist Dex and Dr. McKay have conflicting personalities," D replied distantly, her eyes focused on the jumper's ceiling, "Ronon's job is to follow orders and McKay's job is to question them. Since this is their first mission together, they're still getting used to each other. The two of them getting along in the beginning depends on whether Colonel Sheppard is able to prove he is a strong enough commander for Ronon to follow and whether Ms. Emmagan is able to exert her calming influence over the entire team. The team will either achieve a suitable balance, making AR-1 one of the most capable and widely utilized teams in the City, or they'll fracture apart violently, in which case the US military will blame Lt. Colonel Sheppard for the failure. Then even Elizabeth's influence won't be able to stop Colonel Caldwell from being appointed Military Commander of Atlantis and I'll have to shoot him in the face for being a dick. The odds are about even for either scenario."

"Don't like Colonel Caldwell much, do you?" Lorne asked sardonically.

D's head snapped forward and she slapped a hand over her mouth. She looked to Elizabeth, flinching as she dropped her hand.

"My apologies, Dr. Weir," D said quickly, "I didn't mean to say that last part out loud."

"It's all right," Elizabeth suppressed her smile, "I already knew the odds were even either way."

"Yes, ma'am, but that's not-" D started, looking to Lorne nervously.

"I'm still not past my disappointment about the whole 'didn't check the weather before we left' thing," Lorne gave an exaggerated sigh, "I don't know how I'm going to manage without knowing the full history of weather patterns on this planet."

"I'll be sure to include a full weather report in all your future mission briefings, Major," D deadpanned, "I'm sure Lt. Reed and Sergeant Coughlin will be overjoyed with the extra reading."

"Oh, look," Lorne brought up the HUD with a grin, "Landing instructions."

"Follow them please, Major," Elizabeth ordered easily, "And let's all be prepared for any possibilities, weather related or otherwise."

"Yes, ma'am," Lorne agreed.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM_*

Elizabeth and her escorts were met at the landing site by a small security detachment. The five of them were led through well-kept gardens to a large building made of concrete and glass. They were introduced to the Magistrate and his young assistant, who then led them through the impressive building to a small conference room, decorated in the same efficient style as the rest of the building. The beginning talks were going well, until one of the nameless, silent guards pressed a hand to the oblong silver earpiece in his ear, then stepped forward to whisper in the Magistrate's ear.

"Is there a problem, Magistrate?" Elizabeth asked politely.

"I'm afraid the news is not good," the Magistrate answered uneasily, "Our rescue teams had just begun their search on the island when the ancestral ring activated."

"The Wraith?" Elizabeth asked warily.

"It appears a culling is under way. We're not sure how many ships are involved, but our teams were forced to pull back," the Magistrate spoke quickly, "I'm not giving up hope. I'll send teams back in the moment the Wraith are gone. Hopefully your friends will have evaded the culling. I must attend to this."

The Magistrate rushed out of the room, followed quickly by the uniformed guards. His assistant bowed her head respectfully, giving Elizabeth a nervous look before following the men, pulling the door shut behind her and leaving them alone in the room.

Elizabeth exchanged a guarded look with Lorne. She turned to D and saw her gray eyes narrowed, her fingers twitching against the gun at her thigh as she stared at the door the Magistrate left through.

"Dr. Vaughn, did you have something to say?" Elizabeth asked cautiously.

D flicked her glance to the corner of the room, then smiled at Reed politely, "Lieutenant, could I ask you to take two steps to your left? Sergeant, three steps forward and one to your right, if you would."

The two Marines looked to Lorne, who nodded once, then they moved as they had been directed. D flicked her glance to the opposite corner of the room, then took Elizabeth's right elbow gently, moving her several steps toward the two Marines before dropping her hand back to her side.

"Major Lorne, if you would stand on Dr. Weir's left side please?" D asked calmly.

Lorne moved closer to Elizabeth, stepping around her to stand on her left side.

"There are two security cameras in this room," D explained softly, "Reed and Coughlin are blocking the view of anyone monitoring so as long as we speak quietly, we'll have some measure of privacy."

"How did you notice the cameras?" Elizabeth asked, resisting the urge to search the walls to find them for herself.

"It's my job," D said evenly, "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"

"As a general rule, D," Elizabeth insisted, "I always prefer you speak freely."

"The sleaze ball is lying through his disgusting teeth," D stated bluntly, "about nearly everything he's told us."

"Well, that's pretty obvious," Lorne agreed drolly.

"He was terrified when he received the report about the Wraith," D continued, "but in an extremely selfish manner. His pulse doubled and his hands started to shake. He all but ran from the room – without bothering to check if his guards were following. He does not want us on the prison island for any reason and has very little interest in trading with us, at least fairly. The Magistrate is a bully, used to getting what he wants at the expense of others, and may try to force a confrontation if we leave, but he'll only fight if he thinks he can win. His assistant, Marin, knows something but she's too afraid of the repercussions of speaking out."

"Do you think they've detained Sheppard's team?" Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.

"No, ma'am," D shook her head, "That was one of the only things he was telling the truth about. AR-1 is no longer in this part of Olesia. They're somewhere on the island."

"Anything else?" Lorne asked carefully.

"If the Magistrate forces a confrontation…" D held Elizabeth's hard gaze as she trailed off.

"I know how to deal with bullies," Elizabeth said firmly.

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head then turned to Lorne, "Major?"

"Don't back down," Lorne nodded and looked down to the gun strapped to D's left thigh, "You know how to use that?"

"Would I be allowed to wear it if I didn't?" D raised an eyebrow at him.

"I guess not," Lorne grinned.

"While we've got some spare time," D looked between Elizabeth and Lorne, "I'd like to propose a scheduling change, ma'am."

"Scheduling change?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"Yes, ma'am," D's mouth quirked into half a smile, "I've been going over the mission reports and I've discovered that Lt. Colonel Sheppard's team is three times as likely to require additional personnel to _assist_ them during their missions. I'd like to recommend an extra two teams are on stand-by whenever AR-1 has an off-world mission scheduled."

"Only three times?" Lorne snorted, "From what I've heard, it's way more than that."

"We can discuss it when we get back to the City," Elizabeth agreed with an easy smile.


	8. Confrontation

Lorne watched as Elizabeth paced restlessly back and forth. The door handle turned and Marin stepped in quietly. She looked back out in the hallway nervously before she turned around, closing the door behind her once more. Lorne exchanged a quick look with D and moved to stand on the other side of Elizabeth, the two of them flanking her as she stepped forward.

"Marin?" Elizabeth asked warily, "What's happened?"

"No one must know I'm speaking to you," Marin started cautiously.

"Of course," Elizabeth reassured her.

"You should leave," Marin insisted, "as soon as possible."

"Why?" Lorne questioned.

"The Magistrate has just rescinded my orders to send rescue teams back to the island," Marin informed them.

"What?" Elizabeth asked incredulously, "Why would he do that?"

"Several arrests have been made," Marin's eyes were wide with fear, "Many people in the city have been apprehended for unspecified violations to be sent to the island to increase the population there."

"To keep the Wraith fed," Lorne concluded.

"This has been going on for some time, but never so bad as this," Marin continued, "The number of arrests is – I cannot keep quiet any longer. I have to speak out."

"Lies," the Magistrate swore as he and his guards came into the room, "Seeding fear not only among your own people, but now our guests. I cannot allow it."

"I was only trying to understand why so many people are being arrested," Marin defended.

"Your job is not to question the actions of this government," the Magistrate made a gesture to the men behind him. Two of them stepped forward to take Marin's arms.

"No. Wait!" Marin protested as she was led from the room, "Help me! Please!"

"Where are they taking her?" Elizabeth questioned.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that," the Magistrate said calmly.

"What crime has she committed?" Elizabeth asked tightly.

"I have recently learned that Marin has been involved in a group seeking to undermine the Olesian government," the Magistrate explained smoothly, "She's become very adept at spinning lies to suit her organization's treasonable agenda."

"Did you or did you not," Elizabeth inquired, "rescind the order to send rescue teams back to the island?"

"Why would I do that?" the Magistrate scoffed.

"That doesn't concern me," Elizabeth straightened, "My first concern is with the safety of my people, and I promise you-"

"Everything is being done to ensure their rescue and safe return," the Magistrate insisted, "If there has been any hindrance at all, it was because of Marin."

"_C'est un très mauvais menteur_," D spoke quietly, her fingers resting against the gun at her side. [French: He is a very bad liar.]

"_Oui, en effet_," Elizabeth agreed, her voice growing hard, "What's going to happen to her now?" [French: Yes, he is.]

"She'll receive a fair trial in our courts," the Magistrate claimed.

"And then what," Lorne wondered, "sent to the island?"

"I'm sure where you come from," the Magistrate looked to Lorne, "treason is also considered a very serious offense."

"So that's a 'yes'," Lorne retorted.

"Tell me, Magistrate," D's hand tightened around the butt of her gun, "what else is considered a serious offense in Olesia?"

"Anything that threatens the welfare of the Olesian people," the Magistrate answered firmly.

"Are you sure it's the welfare of the people that concerns you?" Elizabeth scoffed, "Or just your own?"

"Choose your words very carefully, Dr. Weir," the Magistrate cautioned.

"Oh, I do. Why?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "Is that a threat?"

"It's advice…" the Magistrate paused, "…from one ally to another."

"Well, this alliance…it's just been rescinded," Elizabeth looked to Lorne, "We're leaving."

The Magistrate gave a heavy sigh, gesturing to the uniformed men waiting behind him. Several of them stepped forward, raising their weapons.

"What, do you plan to arrest us too?" Elizabeth questioned.

Lorne tightened his grip on his P90 and lifted his chin, watching out of the corner of his eye as his team did the same.

"Because you do not want to do that," Elizabeth said confidently.

Lorne raised and aimed his gun in one smooth motion, taking half a step in front of Elizabeth to protect her. He saw D, her sidearm in a steady two-handed grip, mirror his motions on the other side of Elizabeth at the same time. Coughlin and Reed raised their weapons a second after Lorne and D, moving forward into position to surround Elizabeth. Elizabeth held the Magistrate's stare for a tense moment until he dropped his eyes, sighing and nodding to the guards behind him. They parted, letting Elizabeth lead the way through the group out the door.

As soon as the door shut behind them, D slipped her gun back into the holster at her thigh and urged Elizabeth down the corridor with a gentle hand at her elbow.

"Can you find out where they took Marin, Dr. Vaughn?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

"Yes, ma'am," D responded calmly, "Technically, I can."

"Technically?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Ma'am, if we take the time to locate and retrieve Marin," D answered evenly, "the Magistrate will have time to marshal his security forces. We don't have enough time to save her and make it out of here ourselves."

"She tried to warn us," Elizabeth protested, pulling on D's grip on her to slow their progress.

"Dr. Weir," D stopped, letting go of Elizabeth's arm as she turned to face her, "You can either choose to retrieve Marin, forfeiting at least one of our lives and the lives of AR-1 to do so, or you can choose to leave now and search the island for Sheppard's team, sparing our lives and theirs. I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say: we'll follow whatever orders you give. But you need to decide quickly."

"There has to be something we can do," Elizabeth insisted.

"Elizabeth," D's expression softened, "You can't save everyone. Choose."

Elizabeth frowned and nodded once, turning to Lorne as she spoke, "Back to the jumper, Major."

"Yes, ma'am," Lorne nodded in agreement.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

By the time the jumper was able to return to Atlantis, John and his team were safely ensconced in the infirmary, Carson quietly fussing over their injuries. He had just moved on to Ronon, after the man had all but growled at the nurse he had sent over originally, when Elizabeth walked in, D following quietly behind.

"How are they, Carson?" Elizabeth asked, the concern clear on her face.

"Minor bruising, a few lacerations, other than that, they're fine," Carson tried to take Ronon's wrist to clean the cuts, "Hold still, lad."

"The Wraith?" John questioned, sitting up on the nearest gurney.

"They were still culling the mainland when we left," Elizabeth said tightly, "I'm afraid the Olesian people are paying for the Magistrate's selfishness."

Ronon glowered at Carson and shifted away when the Doctor tried to clean the scrapes.

"Ronon," Teyla cautioned from behind him, "Let the doctor see to your wounds."

"'m fine," Ronon grunted.

D stepped forward, wrapping her small hand partially around Ronon's forearm and pulling him off the gurney with an insistent tug. She grabbed the silver tray holding the medical supplies and ignored the quick protest Carson gave as she dragged Ronon to a secluded corner of the infirmary. Elizabeth watched as D simply sat on the floor without letting go of the taller man, forcing Ronon to sit down in front of her. She set the tray down between them and picked up supplies to begin cleaning the scrapes around his wrists gently.

"Now why wouldn't he just let me do that?" Carson frowned.

"After being on the run for so long," Teyla stated calmly, "I believe it is still difficult for Ronon to accept help without fear of causing harm. Clearly, Dr. Vaughn is able to see this in him and provide him some comfort."

"I suppose given D's history," Carson said thoughtfully, "She would understand what he's going through better than the rest of us."

"What history?" John looked between Carson and Elizabeth curiously.

"Dr. Vaughn had a somewhat…" Elizabeth paused, giving Carson a stern look, "…difficult past before General O'Neill recruited her."

"As long as his wounds are cleaned and dressed properly," Carson sighed, "I guess it doesn't matter who does it."

"Do not worry, Dr. Beckett," Teyla smiled, "In time, Ronon will understand that there is no harm in allowing others to help him freely."

"They'll be fine, Carson. Stop worrying," Elizabeth reassured him, turning back to John, "I hear you brought home another guest."

"Apparently, his name is Eldon. He used to be a scientist on Olesia," John informed her, "He says he didn't actually kill anyone to get on the island, that it was all a case of mistaken identity. McKay seems to think he's pretty smart, if a little strange."

"And where is he now?" Elizabeth asked Carson.

"He's in one of the isolation rooms with Rodney," Carson replied easily, "I can take you to them, if you'd like to speak with him yourself."

"Lead the way," Elizabeth agreed.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

Ronon waited impatiently as D methodically cleaned his cut wrists with the sharp smelling disinfectant. The corner the two of them were sitting in was quiet and mostly private, but Ronon could still see Carson lead Elizabeth and the rest of his team away.

"How was your first official mission?" D asked quietly.

"Fine," Ronon grunted.

"From the looks of your wrists," D started smoothing a cool analgesic cream on his right wrist, "It wasn't all that fine. Prisoners must have tied good knots to do this."

"I guess," Ronon gave her a one-shouldered shrug.

"Did you get to have any fun?" D looked up as she began wrapping his wrist in clean, white gauze.

"Got to beat some guys up," Ronon replied with a quick grin, "You?"

"Not really," D sighed as she secured the gauze, "I spent most of the time with the sleazy Magistrate."

"Didn't like him?" Ronon wondered.

"I hope the Wraith take a week to eat him," D scowled as she took Ronon's left wrist, smoothing the cool cream evenly over the scrapes.

Ronon snorted half a laugh.

"What about your team?" D questioned lightly, "Getting along okay with everyone? And don't say fine, Ronon."

"Teyla's nice and Sheppard's okay. But McKay is whiny," Ronon frowned, "Why does Sheppard put up with him?"

"Because McKay is incredibly intelligent," D started wrapping Ronon's other wrist, "And even though he doesn't seem like the type, he's saved the lives of many people on this base, Sheppard's included, many times over."

"Why doesn't he stay in the City?" Ronon questioned, "He's a civilian."

"I think Sheppard sees something in McKay that not many other people do," D secured the bandage, "A person that, given the chance, can use the talents he has to become a great person, a hero even. I think Sheppard is trying to give him that chance."

"You believe that?" Ronon asked skeptically.

"I believe that Dr. McKay's mind is an incredible gift," D answered thoughtfully, "Complaining and whining are just his way of coping with the responsibilities of that gift; the same way you choose to use your strength to protect others, even at the cost of isolating yourself from them."

"That wasn't an answer," Ronon grumbled.

"Yes, Ronon," D smiled softly, "I believe McKay is worth your protection. I believe Sheppard is a worthy leader for you. I believe Teyla's patience and compassion make her the strongest of all of you. I believe all of them are worth your friendship."

"I didn't ask that," Ronon scowled.

"But it's what you wanted to know," D tapped her earpiece, "Dr. Beckett, this is Dr. Vaughn."

"_This is Beckett_," Carson answered.

"Ronon is ready for you to look at the arrow wound in his right leg now," D retrieved the silver tray with the discarded supplies, "It looks like only superficial soft tissue damage, but it could do with a thorough cleaning and a few sutures."

"_I'll be right there_," Carson assured her.

"Thank you, Carson," D tapped her earpiece off as she and Ronon stood, "Do you want Teyla to stay with you while Carson stitches your leg? Or I can, if you'd be more comfortable."

"I'm good," Ronon insisted, looking down at his neatly bandaged wrists, "Thanks for…"

"Any time," D turned to leave, but looked back to Ronon hesitantly, "I know you've been running with Sheppard, but I'm up most mornings at 0430, if you'd like to start a little earlier."

"Dunno if you can keep up with me," Ronon grinned, "I'm a lot bigger than you."

"I'm sure I'll manage somehow," D rolled her eyes, "I'll meet you outside your quarters at 0445."

* * *

**Special thanks to reader LillyD11 for helping me with the French translations!**


	9. Inconsistencies

John set his tray down at his team's shared table, pulling the last empty chair out to sit next to Teyla. Rodney was rambling about the latest accidental discovery his department made, both he and Teyla nibbling on sandwiches as he spoke. Ronon's tray was piled high with food and he was shoveling bites almost continually into his mouth, barely pausing for breaths between mouthfuls. John listened to Rodney's story, quietly eating his own lunch, until Rodney reached over mid-sentence to Ronon's tray to try to pick up his second bowl of blue jello. Ronon growled and tried to stab Rodney's hand with his fork, missing by less than an inch.

"Rodney," John scolded, "Ronon."

"Oh, come on," Rodney ignored John, still trying to get at the small bowl, "You've got two."

"Get your own," Ronon hunched over his food protectively.

"You took the last blue one," Rodney complained.

"No," Ronon insisted.

"I'll trade you my fruit cup," Rodney picked up his unopened dessert in offering.

"No," Ronon spoke around a mouthful of food, "It's mine."

"Rodney," Teyla sighed, "Leave Ronon's food alone. There are other flavors, if you desire jello that badly."

"But blue is my favorite," Rodney whined.

"Don't let Ronon go first next time," John shrugged.

"But I didn't-" Rodney protested loudly.

"Afternoon everyone," D walked up to the table, balancing two trays full of food carefully on one arm.

"Hello, Dr. Vaughn," Teyla smiled politely, "Did you wish to join us for lunch?"

"No, thank you, Teyla," D took a large bowl off one of the trays, placing it next to Ronon as she spoke, "I was just stopping by to grab lunch for Dr. Weir. She seems to think that stale coffee is an appropriate meal. I'm trying to dissuade her of that notion."

"Elizabeth does sometimes neglect her own needs in place of her work," Teyla agreed.

"That seems to be a common occurrence on Atlantis," D stated dryly, "Given the potential discoveries here, I suppose it's understandable."

"What's this?" Ronon poked at the food in the bowl with his fork.

"Beef stew," D answered easily, "The meat is from an animal on Earth called a cow, the same as those hamburgers you liked, and it has some vegetables thrown in for flavor."

"You don't want it?" Ronon looked up at her guardedly.

"I have plenty to eat without it," D handed over a spoon, "Try it. I think you'll enjoy it."

Ronon took the utensil and dug it into the thick stew, scooping a heaping spoonful into his mouth.

"'s good," Ronon mumbled as he began shoveling the stew into his mouth faster.

"I'm glad you like it," D smiled warmly and laid a hand on Ronon's shoulder, still balancing the trays as she leaned close to whisper in his ear.

Ronon paused eating long enough to give her an annoyed grunt and a reluctant nod.

"I should get going," D squeezed Ronon's shoulder gently before releasing him, "Elizabeth has a meeting with a couple of marine biologists in half an hour. I'd like to make sure she eats something before then."

"Please, do not let us keep you," Teyla nodded as D turned to leave, "Enjoy the rest of your day, Dr. Vaughn."

"You too," D called over her shoulder. She picked up two bottles of water from the large table at the entrance of the room, adding them to the trays as she left.

"And she says she's not a secretary," Rodney snorted.

"McKay," John cautioned, "Are you really going to complain that she's taking care of Elizabeth?"

"I'm just saying," Rodney grumbled, "It's weird that someone whose employment history is an alphabet soup of every American intelligence agency is fetching food and organizing supplies. She's over-qualified to be doing this. Even if General O'Neill really wanted her involved in the Stargate program that badly, why would he assign her as Elizabeth's assistant rather than something more suited to her background? Why would she agree to that? Something else has to be going on."

"What do you mean?" John questioned.

"Not our business," Ronon paused in his eating to slide the blue jello over to Rodney, "Here."

"Wait, really?" Rodney brightened, "You almost stabbed me over this two minutes ago and now you're giving it to me?"

"If you don't want it…" Ronon reached for the bowl again.

"No, no, no," Rodney snatched the jello up and dug his spoon in immediately, "I want it."

Ronon smirked and picked up his bowl of stew to drain the last of its contents.

"Are you just giving me the jello so I'll shut up?" Rodney asked suddenly, his mouth half full of food.

"Yes," Ronon set his empty bowl down.

"That won't always work, you know," Rodney waved his spoonful of blue jello at the taller man.

"Hasn't even worked this time," John drawled.

"You're hilarious," Rodney scowled at him across the table.

"Thanks, Rodney," John smirked, "I like to think so."

As John and Rodney started arguing about who was funnier, Teyla met Ronon's eyes, giving him a small knowing smile before she resumed her lunch.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"It was called Project Arcturus," Rodney moved towards the large screen on Elizabeth's wall, "and from what we can tell, its ultimate goal was to render ZedPMs obsolete."

"How?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"A zero-point module is an artificially created region of subspace-time," Rodney explained, "It's kind of like a miniature universe in a bottle."

"It extracts vacuum energy from this artificial region of subspace-time until it reaches maximum entropy," Zelenka continued.

"So what's different about this thing?" Caldwell questioned.

"Project Arcturus was attempting to extract vacuum energy from our own space-time," Zelenka clarified, "making it potentially as powerful as the scope of the universe itself."

"This strikes me as something the Ancients would've tried first," Caldwell moved to sit in the chair in front of Elizabeth's desk, "even before ZPMs."

"And they may have," Rodney agreed, "but extracting zero-point energy from our own universe is…well, it's definitely trickier."

"Explain 'trickier'," Elizabeth ordered cautiously.

"Because we actually have to live in our own universe," Zelenka replied, "it presents a whole range of problems."

"Well, obviously it's not that easy," Caldwell insisted, "or Atlantis wouldn't still rely on ZPMs."

"You're right," John agreed, "The Ancients couldn't make it work."

"I said I wanted to do all the talking," Rodney protested.

"Come on, Rodney," John looked over to Rodney from his position on the short couch, "Arcturus was a total failure."

"Failure, yes – total, no," Rodney argued, "Look, the Ancients were losing the war against the Wraith when work on Arcturus began. If they could have made it work it could have turned the tide of war. I mean, we're talking about their own Manhattan Project."

"The Manhattan Project cost two billion dollars, Dr. McKay, which is roughly equivalent to twenty-one billion dollars today," D moved closer to study the equations on the screen behind him, "Between January 1943 and June 1945, there were sixty-two fatalities and 3,879 disabling injuries."

"What's your point?" Rodney glared at her.

"My point, Dr. McKay," D slipped the remote out of Rodney's hand without looking at him, clicking it to scroll through the screens steadily, "is that you should take potential risks into consideration as well, not just the potential rewards, especially when contemplating something of this scale."

"Does it say anywhere why was Arcturus tested on Doranda?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

When Rodney only continued glowering at D, John replied for him, "The outpost was ordered by the Ancients in Atlantis to defend the Dorandan people using their weapons powered by this new power source."

"Yes," Zelenka agreed cautiously, "but despite their strong reservations that it was not ready to be tested under battle conditions."

"The point is," John continued, "the Wraith won."

"Yeah, but the Dorandans still inflicted massive damage on the attacking Wraith fleet," Rodney insisted curtly.

"While taking out a few Wraith cruisers is an impressive accomplishment," D flicked through several screens of data, pausing on each of the last two, "there is no second place in war."

"They still put up a hell of a fight," John pointed out.

"The logs indicate there was a major malfunction," Zelenka informed them.

"Well yes," Rodney agreed reluctantly, "the Ancients in the bunker were forced to shut everything down, including the weapon."

"The Wraith sent more ships," John made a sweeping gesture, "the Dorandans got wiped out."

"So if the malfunction hadn't occurred," Caldwell wondered, "the Ancients would've saved the planet?"

"Definitely," Rodney said confidently.

"Possibly," John corrected, "Don't sugarcoat this Rodney."

"Has anyone looked at these results yet?" D asked absently, tilting her head as she studied the screen, "There's something odd about this data."

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth questioned.

D waved the remote at the screen, speaking in a quiet, rapid language that no one understood.

"D," Elizabeth interrupted delicately, "I don't speak whatever that is."

"My apologies, ma'am," D winced as she turned to face Elizabeth, "It was Romanian."

"It's fine," Elizabeth smiled, "Could you explain in English what you meant please?"

"Yes, ma'am," D turned back toward the screen, "The data from the original test firings is inconsistent with Ancients' projections."

"There's nothing odd about that, Dr. Vaughn," Rodney scowled at her again, "Scientists often get different results than what they were expecting."

"It's the way the data is inconsistent that I find curious. Given the equations that the Ancients were using were correct," D highlighted a set of equations and text, "even if their original extrapolations were incorrect, there should still be a predictable pattern within the resulting data points. These indicate the test firings had a…rather peculiar randomness to them."

"Maybe there's a pattern there," Rodney scoffed, "and you just can't see it."

"While that is possible, Doctor," D said evenly, turning to face Rodney, "it is highly unlikely."

"These equations, Doctor," Rodney spoke deliberately slowly, snatching the remote from D's hand, "are incredibly complex. You couldn't possibly understand them enough to make any sort of judgment. Especially after looking at them for all of, what, two minutes."

"First of all," D started calmly, "You seem to be under the mistaken impression that you are the only person in this room who can understand complex equations."

"Your PhDs have nothing to do with math or physics," Rodney waved a dismissive hand at her, "You can't-"

"I never said one way or the other whether I believed the equations are correct," D interrupted coolly.

"You said-" Rodney began again.

"My exact words were 'given the equations that the Ancients were using were correct'," D spoke over him, "I am making the assumption that the scientists working on this project had an adequate understanding of advanced math concepts and that they copied their equations correctly into the data logs. You made the same assumption when you speculated the Dorandans were destroyed by the Wraith."

"That's not-" Rodney flushed an irritated red.

"Second of all," D arched an eyebrow at Rodney, "I do not have to fully understand the equations to be able to determine a pattern within the results. As you will remember from your perusal my file, I analyze things for a living. I would not be where I am today if I was unable to recognize a simple pattern, or lack thereof, in this case. Look at the results for yourself, Dr. McKay."

"You are so," Rodney pointed a finger in D's face, "incredibly annoying."

"And you are so hyperopic," D countered severely, "You are so blinded by the possibilities that you can't see what's in front of your face."

"You can't assume that just because you don't see something," Rodney waved the remote through the air again, "that it isn't there. The data could've been recorded wrong. It could just be your limited understanding of the extremely complex math keeping you from seeing something that you think should be there."

"McKay. Shut. Up," D put one hand around the skin of Rodney's wrist, pushing his arm down to his side as she put the other hand on his cheek, forcefully turning his head to look at the screen, "_Look_."

"Don't tell me to shut up. You can't just…" Rodney trailed off, narrowing his eyes as he finally studied the highlighted sections, "Huh."

"Do you see?" D asked patiently, dropping her hand from his cheek, "The initial results and again in-"

"Yeah, I see," Rodney gestured to another spot on the screen, "Here too."

Rodney clicked the remote several times, raising his arm with D's fingers still wrapped firmly around his wrist as he brought another set of equations up next to those already highlighted, the scowl on his forehead smoothing out.

"That's what I was trying to tell you," D claimed, "All the results are like that."

"All of them?" Rodney raised his hand to click the remote again and looked down to where D's hand was still holding his arm, "You mind?"

"My apologies, Dr. McKay," D recoiled subtly as she released Rodney's wrist.

"Whatever, it's fine," Rodney said dismissively, "Radek, we need to-"

"Yes, yes," Zelenka moved forward to take D's spot in front of the equations as she shifted away, "With the-"

"And this," Rodney pointed again.

"Of course that," Zelenka rolled his eyes, "I am not blind, Rodney."

"What just happened?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"Drs. McKay and Zelenka will need to double check the Ancients' results before they proceed any further with testing, ma'am," D informed Elizabeth, her hands now clasped tightly behind her back, "There are a few inconsistencies in the data that should be explained before they attempt to turn on the power source."

"Is the project still viable?" Elizabeth wondered.

"As Dr. McKay said, ma'am," D stated calmly, "I'm not a math and physics expert. If his team is able to figure out the reason for the odd results, I don't foresee any further issues."

"Well, that's good I suppose," Elizabeth nodded.

"I won't deny that this is something that we'd dearly love to get our hands on," Caldwell agreed, "but the Ancients were a pretty bright bunch. If they weren't able to make it work…"

"They were also desperate and losing a war they'd already been fighting for a hundred years," Rodney turned from the screen to snark at Caldwell, "More importantly, they were – they were, like, this close."

"Do believe you can get these inconsistencies sorted out?" Elizabeth asked seriously.

"I do," Rodney said confidently.

"We do," Zelenka straightened his glasses.

"They do," John gestured to the two of them.

"All right," Elizabeth sat forward in her chair, "Dr. Vaughn, make sure they have the resources and personnel they need."

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head, "Lab 27 is a decent size and currently unoccupied. I'll have equipment moved in right away. Drs. McKay and Zelenka can notify any personnel they wish to participate in the project to report there in…" D checked her watch, "…I'd say two hours. That should be enough time to get everything situated."

"Thank you," Elizabeth nodded, "McKay, Zelenka, please let Dr. Vaughn know if you have any additional needs."

"OH!" Rodney clicked his fingers together several times, "Can you get us-"

"One of the new coffee makers will be included in the equipment," D assured him.

"And the-" Zelenka started hopefully.

"The good coffee will be there as well," D said evenly, "As soon as the Daedalus finishes unloading the remainder of our supplies."

"Get started, please," Elizabeth dismissed them easily.

* * *

**Hyperopic is a fancy word for farsighted.**


	10. Minimize

Elizabeth slid into her chair at the center of the U-shaped table, "Has your team made any progress?"

"Yes," Rodney answered.

"No," Radek insisted at the same time.

"Which is it, Doctors?" Caldwell questioned, "Can you make it work or not?"

"_YES_," Rodney glared at Radek.

"NO!" Radek returned Rodney's glare.

"Radek," Rodney scowled, "We've been over this."

"Yes, Rodney, we have," Radek agreed, "which is why I said no."

Elizabeth sighed when Rodney and Radek started arguing loudly from their seats, wildly gesturing at each other while they yelled in a combination of English and Czech techno-babble.

"Maybe we shouldn't have let them have a coffee maker in the lab," John drawled as he leaned back in his chair.

"Obviously not," Caldwell swiped a hand over his forehead, his annoyance clear.

"Neither of them have slept, ma'am," D leaned over to whisper to Elizabeth, "I had food delivered to the lab last night around dinner time, but I don't think they've eaten anything other than that. They're both a bit wired from the lack of sleep and proper nutrition."

"Yes, I see that," Elizabeth looked over to D, "Are you sure they've actually made progress?"

"Some, yes," D nodded, "I wouldn't have scheduled the meeting if they hadn't accomplished anything, ma'am. From what I can understand, they're disagreeing about what the next step should be."

"All right then," Elizabeth turned back to the scientists, "Gentleman."

Both men stopped shouting, but they continued to glare at each other.

"Now, one at a time," Elizabeth ordered calmly, "Dr. McKay, what progress has your team made?"

"We figured out why the test results were so random," Rodney gave Radek a smug smirk, "When the Ancients designed the containment bottle, they designed it to automatically compensate for any sudden changes in the energy output from the power source. However, when they actually tested the weapon, there were massive power surges and the containment field couldn't compensate correctly."

"What Dr. McKay is not telling you is that we cannot find the reason for those power surges," Radek frowned, "According to all the data, the device acted exactly as it was supposed to. No one on the team has been able to find why the power surges occurred."

"And I'm telling you," Rodney turned back to Radek, "the problem is in the automatic containment protocols. Now that we've figured that out, there no reason we can't work around the surges."

"You cannot assume that-" Radek started.

"How are you planning to work around _random_ power surges?" Elizabeth cut off the argument before it could be renewed.

"We don't operate the generator at anywhere near its capacity," Rodney explained, "and we adjust the field strength manually. Even operating at fifty percent, it would generate the power of a dozen ZedPMs."

"Why didn't the Ancients do that in the first place?" Caldwell questioned.

"Maybe they were caught up in the heat of battle or maybe they thought they needed as much power as they could get," Rodney gave another smug smile, "Maybe they weren't smart enough."

"And you are?" John asked skeptically.

"No, I didn't say that," Rodney argued, "But I have the benefit of all their records and previous data. They didn't have anything other than their hypothesis."

"I do not believe the power source will be controllable at any level," Radek straightened his glasses.

"Explain please," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"From what we have been able to gather from the records, as power output increases, new and exotic particles are continuously created and destroyed inside the containment chamber, interacting with each other and with the field itself," Radek explained evenly, "Eventually, particles are created that cannot be predicted in this space-time and they breach the containment field as hard radiation. I believe that is what caused the containment issues and that is why the Ancients abandoned the project."

"But as long as I'm monitoring the energy output manually," Rodney huffed, "I can stop that before it happens."

"You cannot predict something that is inherently unpredictable," Radek protested, "I believe the very act of trying to extract vacuum energy from our own space-time creates an environment where the laws of physics cease to apply."

"Even if that were the case," Rodney disagreed, "Operating the generator well below its potential and adjusting the field strength manually will allow us to abort the test at any time."

"Fine," Radek threw his hands up in the air, "Kill yourself, just like the Ancients did!"

"Whoa," John sat forward, "what do you mean by that?"

"I believe if the overload is allowed to continue," Radek clarified angrily, "the weapon acts as a sort of release valve to prevent catastrophic containment failure. The Ancients barely managed to shut it down and they lost their lives in the process."

"You don't think the Wraith destroyed the planet," Elizabeth said cautiously, "You think it was the weapon?"

"That would explain why the Ancient outpost was the only thing left standing," John spoke thoughtfully.

"Congratulations, you've solved the mystery of how the Ancients screwed up ten thousand years ago," Rodney's frustration was clear, "It doesn't mean that I will do the same. Look, I don't know how else to say this, but none of you are capable of understanding this on the same level that I do. And Zelenka, that includes you."

Radek cursed loudly and pointed an angry finger at Rodney, his face reddening as a stream of heated Czech poured from his mouth.

"Dr. Zelenka," D interrupted, an amused smirk forming on her mouth, "I'm fairly sure most of that is not anatomically possible."

"With him," Radek shook his finger at Rodney a final time, "it might be."

"If Dr. McKay believes he can do this," Caldwell looked to Elizabeth, "Why not at least let him try? I shouldn't have to tell you how many problems this could solve on Earth."

"Or how many problems a weapon like this could cause," Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms across her chest.

"But there's more to it, isn't there?" Caldwell argued, "This is a potentially limitless power source. No more hunting for ZPMs. The shield at full strength. Faster, more powerful ships. How about a power source that can provide the energy needs for an entire planet? No more fossil fuels."

"I get it," Elizabeth nodded once, "And _if_ it worked as advertised, it would be wonderful."

"I can make it work," Rodney insisted.

"Best case scenario, Rodney?" John asked calmly.

"I win a Nobel prize," Rodney smirked.

John rolled his eyes, "Worst case scenario?"

"We tear a hole in the fabric of the universe," Rodney continued quickly at John's frown, "Which is much less likely to happen than the Nobel Prize. I mean, look, the risks are nothing compared to the potential benefits."

"Rodney," Elizabeth sighed.

"It is possible to mitigate some of the inherent risk involved, ma'am," D offered tentatively.

"You agree with Dr. McKay?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at D, "You were the one who pointed out the flawed results in the first place."

"No and yes, ma'am," D inclined her head.

"No and yes?" Elizabeth questioned lightly.

"No, I don't agree with Dr. McKay," D clarified, "and yes, I did point out the flawed results. I'm only here to provide with a neutral assessment, I have no personal opinion on the matter either way."

"And your assessment, Doctor?" Caldwell asked evenly.

"Ma'am?" D inquired, not looking at Caldwell.

"I'd like to hear it," Elizabeth nodded.

"My assessment is that practical testing of the weapon on Doranda should not be allowed at this time," D stated calmly, "As the situation stands, the potential losses far outweigh the potential gains. Theoretical work on the project should continue until such time as we have a better understanding of the technology, at which time, the issue of practical testing can be revisited."

"Wait a minute," Rodney protested angrily.

"That being said," D continued evenly, "I believe I may be able to offer a solution that will allow Dr. McKay to complete his testing with a minimum of risk to everyone involved."

"What solution?" Rodney narrowed his eyes.

"Ma'am?" D asked politely, still ignoring Rodney's interruptions.

"Go ahead," Elizabeth agreed.

"If you limit the number of personnel in the outpost," D looked around the table, "to Drs. McKay and Zelenka, or whichever engineer he prefers, along with no more than two escorts, you can limit the potential loss of life to a smaller number. In addition, the Daedalus could remain in orbit around Doranda, ready to beam out the personnel and equipment should something unforeseen happen. Dr. McKay would proceed as he suggested, operating the generator at less than fifty percent capacity, adjusting the containment field manually while Dr. Zelenka monitors the system closely for surges. Atlantis could establish a wormhole to the gate in orbit above the planet and, with the shield in place, monitor the test firing remotely."

"See?" Rodney turned back to Elizabeth, "Risks lessened. Everyone gets what they want."

"McKay," John cautioned.

"This is big, Elizabeth," Rodney ignored John's warning, "Big like…the wheel, the light bulb…the hot dog big."

"Would you be willing to delay your return trip to Earth for another day, Colonel Caldwell?" Elizabeth asked carefully.

"I can do that," Caldwell agreed easily.

"Dr. Zelenka," Elizabeth turned to him, "Are you willing to participate in the test, despite your misgivings?"

"With these precautions," Radek glanced to Rodney, "and the promise that Rodney will shut down the generator if problems occur, yes."

"At the first sign of trouble," Rodney agreed eagerly.

"I'll go with them," John offered, "Make sure they follow the rules."

"All right," Elizabeth decided, "I'll allow the test."

"You won't regret this, Elizabeth," Rodney grinned, "It's going to work."

"While your confidence is very inspiring, Rodney," Elizabeth stood, "I still want you to be careful. I can't afford to lose any of you."

"We'll take a jumper and make the preparations," John looked to Caldwell as everyone stood, "Meet you there."

"Of course, Colonel," Caldwell agreed as the room emptied.

After everyone else left the room, Elizabeth turned back to D, "If you don't think the testing should continue, why did you come up with a way for them to do it anyway?"

"It's my job, ma'am," D shrugged.

"Really?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "That's the only reason?"

"Because while I do not currently have faith in Dr. McKay or Dr. Zelenka's abilities to make this work," D ducked her head to look at the floor, "you do and I have faith in your judgment. I thought, despite your protests, you wanted the project to continue just as much as anyone. I apologize if that was not the case and I over-stepped my bounds, ma'am."

"You don't have to apologize, D," Elizabeth reached over to brush a hand down D's arm, "I'm not going to punish you for voicing your opinion. You're not going to get in trouble for offering help. I told you I wanted honesty from you; that means even if we disagree on something."

"I…" D looked up at Elizabeth, "I'm not…This is…"

"And even though you were right this time," Elizabeth smiled wryly, "I'm not infallible. You don't have to do something just because you think I want it done."

"This would've all been so much easier," D muttered in annoyance, "if either you or Jack had given me an identity before I got here. Or if you'd simply give me orders instead of making me choose things for myself. Then I'd know how I'm supposed to act, who I'm supposed to be here."

"Then we would be no better than the people you worked for before," Elizabeth said gently.

"I'm finding this somewhat difficult, Elizabeth," D admitted quietly, "This place…these people…I'm not used to being…I don't like not knowing what to expect from people. I don't like not knowing how to interact with you appropriately. I don't know how to be…me. I've gone from barely having time to breathe, let alone think, to filling my days with endless paperwork and meetings. I'm not handling the transition as well as I would like."

"If you want my opinion," Elizabeth smiled softly, "You're doing just fine."

"If you say so, ma'am," D eyed Elizabeth warily.

"If you're looking for more excitement, D," Elizabeth grinned, "you can always start spending time in the explosives lab."

"Or the microbiology lab," D deadpanned, "I hear they're doing exciting things with cell cultures down there."

"Or I could assign you to one of the gate teams," Elizabeth collected her PDA from the table, "I hear Stackhouse's team ran into a rather large bear-like creature on their last mission."

"I believe Sgt. Stackhouse used the words 'really fucking big and really fucking violent koalas with ugly-ass crocodile teeth that are extremely sharp' in his initial report, ma'am," D said dryly, "Major Lorne made him change the description to something more IOA appropriate before he would sign off on the final report."

"See?" Elizabeth laughed, "All kinds of excitement, just waiting to be had."

"I think I can manage without evil koalas, ma'am," D rolled her eyes, "I'll be fine here in the City. If I need more excitement, I can play another round of 'touch this random object and see if it lights up' with the engineers."

"Or hide from them," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "by pretending to do paperwork in my office…behind my desk."

"I was actually doing paperwork," D grabbed her tablet from the table, "And I don't hide. It's called strategic concealment."

"If that's what you want to call it," Elizabeth shrugged and grinned as she left the room.

* * *

**Forgive me for what I'm sure is the awful science in this chapter. I'm not so good with the science-y things.**


	11. Complicated

"So," Elizabeth looked at the three sheepish faces in front of her, "What went wrong?"

"We're still analyzing the data," Rodney replied, "At least, the data we were able to save before…"

"Before you blew up a solar system," Elizabeth finished evenly.

"And my jumper," John added petulantly.

"More like three quarters of a solar system," Radek corrected.

"Oh, please," Rodney huffed, "If you want to get technical about it; it was five-sixths of a solar system."

"I think you're missing the point here, Rodney," Elizabeth crossed her arms across her chest, "What happened to shutting the test down at the first sign of trouble?"

"They did try to shut it down, Elizabeth," John looked over to Rodney and Radek.

"When I realized that I wasn't able to control the containment field manually," Rodney explained, "I ordered Zelenka to shut the system down."

"And I tried," Radek continued, "But I was unable to do so. Both the primary and backup systems were unresponsive. The weapon started firing at random targets above the planet to prevent an overload."

"The Daedalus took a couple hits," Caldwell informed her, "But the shields held and there was no real damage."

"When I realized that there was nothing else we could do," Rodney gestured to Caldwell, "The Daedalus beamed us and as much of the equipment up as we could before they jumped to hyperspace."

"I think the important thing is, thanks to the extra precautions, no one got hurt or worse," John drawled, "even if Rodney did blow up a solar system…and my jumper."

"It wasn't all my fault," Rodney protested.

"I'm not blaming anyone," Elizabeth assured him, dropping her hands back to her sides, "I'm just trying to understand what happened so we can avoid mistakes like this in the future. How much of the experiment data were you able to save?"

"Everything until we were beamed out," Rodney replied, "and we have the Daedalus' sensor readings until they jumped into hyperspace."

"We could've had the jumper's reading too," John said blandly, shoving his hands in his pockets, "If someone hadn't blown it up along with the majority of a solar system."

"Enough with the stupid jumper already," Rodney threw his hands into the air, "I'm sorry, all right?"

"Each of the puddle-jumpers form a mental bond with a specific pilot," D said absent-mindedly, typing away on a tablet, "With the strength of Colonel Sheppard's gene, and the fact the he was previously a pilot on Earth, not just a pilot because of the gene, it's not surprising he's upset about the loss. It's possible he's experiencing a very real biochemical response in his brain at the moment, causing him to have an emotional reaction to the jumper's loss."

"What are you babbling about?" Rodney whirled around to face D.

D stopped typing abruptly and looked up to see everyone staring at her.

"_Dixi quia ex magna_," D winced as she looked at Elizabeth, "_nonne ego_?" [Latin: I said that out-loud, didn't I?]

"Yes, you did," Elizabeth nodded, "And not to get too side-tracked here, but what did you mean 'mental bond'?"

"It's in the Ancient database, ma'am," D started hesitantly, looking between Elizabeth and John, "Haven't any of you wondered why the gate teams always choose the same jumper for their missions? Or why they always have the same pilot, even if more than one person on the team has the gene, as is the case with AR-1?"

"I fly because McKay is terrible at it," John drawled.

"According to the database," D stated evenly, "anyone other than the first person to fly the jumper would have trouble, unless the original pilot hasn't flown for an extended amount of time or the jumper's interface is reset for whatever reason. The jumper takes a neural imprint of the pilot when they initially connect and that pattern is integrated into the jumper's controls in order to better facilitate interactions. Obviously, no two people have the same neural imprint so unless the next person to fly can copy the original pilot's thought process exactly, they're going to have trouble flying that particular jumper. The only exception I've noticed so far is Colonel Sheppard. It seems he is somehow able to override the initial imprint, allowing him to fly any of the jumpers with ease, quite possibly due to the fact that he has the strongest expression of the Ancient gene among the expedition members."

"You found the section in the database about the jumpers?" Rodney asked skeptically.

"No," D answered steadily, "I found the section of the database about the neural interface used in the majority of Ancient tech, including the jumpers."

Radek's jaw dropped, "You found the section about the MTI?"

"And you didn't tell anyone?" Rodney exclaimed.

"What's the MTI?" John asked curiously.

"The Mind-Tech Interface, it's what we call the mental component in Ancient tech," Rodney said impatiently, giving John a short glare for interrupting before turning back to D, "How did you find it?"

"The database has a search function," D stated calmly, "I was looking over past mission reports as part of my research and I got curious about the neural interface with the jumpers so I looked it up. It's actually quite an interesting concept."

"You found a search function?" Rodney gaped.

"Yes," D drew out the word as she looked around the room at the mostly shocked faces, "You didn't know it existed?"

"Let me get this straight," Rodney's face flushed with anger as his voice grew louder, "You realized that the ten thousand year old Ancient database has a search function and used that to find a particular section pertaining to what is possibly the most complicated parts of Ancient technology and you DIDN'T TELL ANYONE?"

"I haven't finished reading it yet," D looked to Elizabeth, tilting her head to the side, "I was going to write a report tomorrow night when I had some free time. Was I supposed to tell someone before I finished?"

"Of course you were supposed to tell us, you idiot!" Rodney shouted angrily, taking a threatening step closer to D, "Do you have any idea how big of a find that is? No one has been able to figure out how the Ancients were able to integrate a mental component into their technology and you've been sitting on the section of the database that explains it all. Even the morons that work for me know enough to tell someone they've found something that could answer all of our questions. I thought you were supposed to be smarter than them. What good are you if you can't even do the simplest things without explicit instructions?"

John looked over to D and saw the pigment of her irises darkening from pale gray to an unnerving black, her hands tightening around the tablet she held. Although she held Rodney's stare, her face was completely devoid of any emotion.

"Enough, Rodney," John cautioned, "It's not a big deal."

"It is a _very big deal_," Rodney started waving his hands through the air, taking another step closer to D, "You have to be a special kind of stupid not to think that something as important as the reason Ancient tech works with your mind is not worth mentioning immediately. Who knows what else she found and hasn't told us about?"

"Dr. McKay," D's normally raspy voice grew even hoarser, "Step back. Now."

Rodney didn't listen, instead taking another step forward. There was a quiet crack as Rodney continued yelling, "What else did you manage to look up using the search function that you also neglected to tell anyone about? Did you find more ZedPMs in the database? The location of secret Ancient outposts? Hmmm? How about information that could defeat the Wraith?"

D shifted her stance, taking half a step closer to Rodney, as her left hand released the tablet to move toward her waist.

"Stop," Elizabeth ordered, stepping between them to look directly at D.

"I can't believe this," Rodney scoffed loudly, "What are you, some kind of child? You need someone to-"

"That's enough, Dr. McKay," Elizabeth commanded Rodney without looking at him.

"_Movere_," D directed evenly. [Latin: Move.]

"But-" Rodney protested.

"Shut up, Rodney," John said harshly.

"Dr. Weir," D growled, "_Exire ex viam_." [Latin: Get out of the way.]

"No," Elizabeth straightened, her voice steady, "_Cessare_." [Latin: Stop.]

Both D's hands dropped down to her sides and she took an immediate step back from Elizabeth, blinking rapidly and eyes fading back to gray as she looked over Elizabeth's shoulder to Rodney.

"_Domina_," D's voice was completely flat as she ducked her head, chin nearly touching her chest, "I apologize for my behavior. I should have realized the importance of sharing the intelligence I gathered. If you wish, I'll stay out of the Ancient database in the future." [Latin: Master/Mistress.]

"That's not necessary, Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth said calmly, reaching a hand over to the younger woman, "You've done noth-"

Elizabeth froze when D recoiled away from Elizabeth's outstretched hand then stepped forward again, keeping her head down and bracing her body.

"D," Elizabeth spoke calmly, "Look up at me."

D raised her head slowly, but kept her eyes centered on Elizabeth's chest instead of her face.

"Do you want to go?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

"Do you want me to leave, Domina?" D questioned evenly.

"I'm not giving you an order," Elizabeth insisted softly, "I am asking you if you want to leave the room."

D looked between Rodney's angry face and Elizabeth's calm one several times.

"_Comminatio ille est non_," D replied unsurely. [Latin: He is not a threat.]

"No," Elizabeth shook her head, "He's not."

D closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "And you're not them."

"I'm not," Elizabeth reached over to squeeze D's arm gently.

"I think I'd like to leave, if that's okay," D finally met Elizabeth's eyes, "It's probably better if I go do something…else."

"Go ahead," Elizabeth released D's arm, "Call me if you need anything."

"Here," D thrust the tablet she was still holding towards Elizabeth, "the latest security reports and the updated gate schedule. I was in the middle of making sure everything was in order."

"We can go over it tomorrow," Elizabeth nodded as she accepted the tablet.

"I'll have that report on the MTI section of the database in Dr. McKay's inbox in two hours, ma'am," D carefully avoided Rodney's annoyed stare, "As well as instructions on how to use the search function."

"Have the reports in his inbox and mine at 0900 tomorrow morning," Elizabeth insisted, "and that part is an order."

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head as turned to leave, "_Il faudra que vous donniez une explication au soldat._" [French: You have to do something to explain to the soldier.]

"I will," Elizabeth agreed as D waved a hand over the crystals to open the door. The door slid closed behind her and Elizabeth looked up at Caldwell, "Colonel, will you make sure the Daedalus' sensor readings are transferred to our network before you head back to Earth?"

"Should already be done," Caldwell nodded, "But I'll double check when I head back to the ship."

"Leaving right away?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Just as soon as the shields are recharged," Caldwell agreed.

"Don't let me keep you then," Elizabeth said politely.

Caldwell gave Elizabeth a final thoughtful look and left her office without another word.

"Dr. McKay," Elizabeth fixed him with a hard stare, "I'd like you and Dr. Zelenka to continue to go over the accident data. I want a preliminary report on my desk by the end of the day."

"What about the MTI?" Rodney protested, "Understanding that could help-"

"No," Elizabeth said firmly.

"But Dr. Vaughn-" Rodney started.

"Rodney," Elizabeth straightened, "Let me make this very clear. You are not to contact Dr. Vaughn in any way until tomorrow morning after 0900. Is that understood?"

"But Elizabeth-" Rodney objected.

"That includes sending someone else to talk to her," Elizabeth added, "Report on my desk by 2300. Go."

"Let's go, Rodney," Radek left quietly, a disgruntled Rodney following behind him.

Elizabeth let out a shaky breath as she set the tablet down on the corner of her desk. John looked down and saw a slim crack running down the center, words flickering in and out on the electronic screen.

"You want to tell me what just happened?" John asked cautiously.

"It's…complicated," Elizabeth sighed as she leaned back on her desk.

"I knew this kid in middle school," John moved to lean next to Elizabeth, resting his hands on the desk behind him, "named Bobby. He was a skinny little thing, lots of freckles. Always really quiet, kept to himself, wore long-sleeve shirts and jeans, no matter how hot it was. One day, some idiots decided it would be fun to duct tape Bobby to the flag pole. It didn't work out very well for them. Turns out, Bobby's parents were beating the crap out of him and that was the day Bobby decided he wasn't going to take it anymore. He fought back and three of the boys ended up in the hospital."

"That's very sad story, John," Elizabeth hesitated, "But it's not-"

"Elizabeth," John reached across her to hold up the cracked tablet, "Exactly how close did McKay just get to ending up in the infirmary?"

"If anyone other than me had stepped between them," Elizabeth gripped the desk behind her tightly, "Carson would be extremely busy right now."

"She thought you were going to hurt her," John set the tablet back down, "and she was going to let you, because she thought disobeyed you. That's why she winces every time she thinks she's done something wrong, why she always sits with her back to the wall, why she understands Ronon; because she's running away."

"Yes," Elizabeth agreed sadly.

"General O'Neill didn't pick her randomly, did he?" John wondered.

"No," Elizabeth looked up at John, "he didn't."

"How bad?" John questioned.

"If they find her, killing her would be a mercy," Elizabeth said seriously.

"Who's 'they'?" John asked carefully.

"I can't tell you that," Elizabeth shook her head, "But I can tell you this; the people after her have a long reach and they are incredibly dangerous."

"Anything else I need to know?" John crossed his arms across his chest.

"If something like this happens," Elizabeth made a vague gesture at the room, "and I'm not around, you need to come find me. Don't let anyone touch her and under no circumstances point a gun in her direction."

"And what happens if someone does?" John narrowed his eyes.

"Carson will be extremely busy," Elizabeth answered evenly, "And John? I'd appreciate it if you kept this information to yourself."

"Not my business," John shrugged.

* * *

**More science, ugh. Why do I keep doing this to myself?**  
**Also, I borrowed the term 'MTI' from the story "Decade" by canis_lupus on AO3. It's a fantastic story that you should definitely check out.**

* * *

**Special thanks to reader LillyD11 for helping me with the French translations!**


	12. Happened

Ronon opened the door to his quarters to see D standing outside, her back rigidly straight as she shifted from foot to foot. She was out of her base uniform for once, instead wearing a slim black tank top that left most of her perfectly sculpted shoulders and arms bare and a pair of black pants that hit her mid-calf, the fabric stretching taut over shapely legs. She wore a dark pair of running shoes on her feet, the laces pulled tight and tucked into the tops. Her long burgundy hair was pulled back in a high messy ponytail, pieces escaping their bindings to trail around her face and neck.

"Hi," D looked up at him nervously.

"Hi," Ronon crossed his arms across chest.

"Look, I know you just got back an hour ago," D started timidly, "and you've been gone for two days with Teyla but I was…I need…I was wondering…"

"What's wrong?" Ronon narrowed his eyes at her.

"I don't know how to be here with these people and not hurt anyone," the words spilled from her mouth as D clenched and unclenched her fists, "I've only been here for five weeks and it's the longest I've ever gone without…without…I almost killed Dr. McKay today in the middle of Elizabeth's office. He was yelling and he stepped forward and somehow I saw him as a threat so my training took over. I don't even know how it happened. McKay yells at everyone. I've been yelled at before and it was fine. If Dr. Weir hadn't stepped in front of me, I would have slit his throat open."

"What do you need?" Ronon asked quietly, his expression softening as his arms fell back to his sides.

"I've already run for two hours," D took a deep breath, "and I did some tai-chi but neither really helped. I was going to the main gym to hit a bag for a while to see if that would make a difference, but there are people in there. I need to expend the rest of my energy so I don't accidently do something to hurt someone. I need to calm down and the methods I would normally use are currently unavailable to me. I'm trying to find alternatives but it's obviously not going well. I was hoping you might have some ideas."

"We'll go spar," Ronon stepped out into the hall, letting the door close behind him.

"Ronon," D looked up at him seriously, "Right now, I can't guarantee I can hold back enough not to kill you. You could get hurt, badly."

"Come on," Ronon took her hand in his and pulled her towards the transporter, "It'll be fun."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"What the bloody hell happened to you two?" Carson exclaimed as Ronon and D came into the infirmary.

Both of them were drenched in sweat and sporting lots of small, colorful bruises, Ronon bare-chested with his arm slung happily over D's shoulders as she helped him walk towards the nearest gurney. Ronon had a large gash on his cheekbone, surrounded by an already purple bruise, blood dripping down his face and neck. D stepped back when Ronon dropped his arm and Carson saw mottled bruising covering on her right shoulder, stretching across her chest until it disappeared under her tank top.

D grinned at Ronon, "I kicked him in the face."

"And you?" Carson frowned at D.

"What about me?" D tilted her head to the side.

"Your shoulder," Ronon snorted.

"Oh," D looked down at the bruising, "It was dislocated but I put it back."

"By yourself?" Carson's frown deepened.

"Well, yes," D looked back up to Carson, "because Ronon was unconscious on the floor."

"You were unconscious?" Carson turned back to Ronon, "For how long?"

"Less than a minute," D answered for him.

"You knocked him out?" Carson looked between the two of them.

"I told you I kicked him in the face," D shrugged her uninjured shoulder.

"You cheated," Ronon grunted.

"You dislocated my shoulder," D put her hands on her hips, "What did you expect me to do after that?"

"I still won," Ronon insisted.

D snorted, "If you say so."

"I did," Ronon smiled widely.

"Keep telling yourself that," D smirked.

"Oh, good lord," Carson rolled his eyes, "You're children. Violent children."

"Sorry, Dr. Beckett," D tipped her head down, but the smirk remained firm, "I'll leave so you can stitch Ronon's face."

"You most certainly will not," Carson pointed a finger at the nearest gurney, "You're going to sit there until I can scan your shoulder and make sure you didn't damage it too badly."

"It doesn't even really hurt, Carson," D shook her head, "It'll fine in a couple days."

"D," Carson narrowed his eyes at her, "Sit down."

"But-" D protested.

"Sit," Carson repeated, "Or I'll call Elizabeth."

D pouted for a second then hopped up onto the gurney, glaring at Carson's back as he went to retrieve an armful of supplies and a box of gloves from a nearby cabinet.

"If I ask a nurse to come help me," Carson set the supplies down on a tray between the two gurneys, "are you two going to behave yourselves?"

Ronon exchanged a quick look with D.

"Nurse Ko is on-call tonight, right?" D asked carefully, "Is she here or somewhere else?"

Carson reached up to tap his earpiece, "Marie, would you come to the infirmary please? I've a couple of difficult patients I could use your help with. Thank you, dear."

"You didn't have to call her in," D said quietly, "Any nurse would've been fine."

"She was on-call anyway," Carson snapped a pair of gloves on, "And if having her come in means you'll both cooperate, it's worth it. Now," Carson gestured for Ronon to lay down, "which one of you wants to explain why you were fighting?"

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"What happened to your face, big guy?" John set his breakfast tray on the table.

Ronon stopped chewing just long enough to answer, "Foot."

"A foot happened to your face?" John asked curiously.

"It is not just his face that is injured," Teyla gave Ronon a stern look.

"Okay," John sipped his coffee, "How'd you get hurt?"

"Fighting," Ronon stuffed more bacon in his mouth.

"Dr. Beckett called me to the infirmary late yesterday evening," Teyla explained calmly, "so I could help Ronon to his room. He has six stitches in his cheek, a hairline fracture of the cheekbone, a mild concussion, and many other bruises. Carson wanted to keep him overnight for observation, but Ronon protested, so I was called to watch him during the night. He is supposed to be on light duty for the next four days. While Carson apparently received an adequate explanation for the injuries, I have yet to hear the entire story."

"What happened to you?" Rodney thunked his tray onto the table as he slouched down into the last chair.

"We were just discussing that," John replied, "Ronon says it was a foot."

"With a shoe," Ronon added.

"A foot?" Rodney paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, "You're like…a giant. How did someone get their foot up to your face?"

"Jumped," Ronon looked thoughtful for a minute before he grinned widely, "I think."

"You _think_ someone jumped high enough to kick you in the face?" Rodney asked doubtfully, "You don't _know_?"

"Don't remember exactly," Ronon shrugged, "Knocked me out."

"Wait," John sat forward, "Someone kicked you hard enough to knock you out? Who?"

"The person I was fighting with," Ronon scowled at the three surprised faces around the table, "What's the big deal?"

"You're…" Rodney made a gesture encompassing Ronon's entire body, "You."

"I believe what Rodney is trying to say," Teyla said patiently, "is that because of your size and abilities, we are having difficulty understanding how you came to be so injured."

"Yeah," John agreed, "I didn't think there was anyone on base who could beat you. It's weird."

"I didn't get beat," Ronon insisted, "I won."

"If that's what winning looks like," Rodney snorted, "I'd hate to see the other guy."

Ronon scowled as he stole one of Rodney's pancakes, shoving most of it into his mouth.

"Hey!" Rodney protested, moving his tray further away from Ronon, "You have your own. Don't steal my breakfast."

"Ronon," Teyla sighed heavily, "You have plenty of food on your own plate. There is no reason to take Rodney's."

"His looked better," Ronon spoke around the rest of the pancake.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Morning, Dr. Weir," D held out a cup of steaming coffee as Elizabeth came into her office

"Good morning," Elizabeth accepted the cup gratefully, "What's on the agenda for today?"

"You have a debriefing with AR-3 in fifteen minutes, ma'am," D handed one of the tablets she held to Elizabeth, "They returned from M6G-301 on schedule and should be out of the infirmary momentarily. The team was laughing when they returned, so I assume that everything went relatively smoothly."

"Okay," Elizabeth sipped her coffee as she scanned the tablet, "After that?"

"At 0800 you're scheduled to meet with AR-6," D reached up to scratch her right collarbone, "about their upcoming mission to M42-897."

"That's the planet with the faux-corn, right?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"Yes, ma'am," D nodded, "They are ready to finalize the trade agreement, Lt. Young just needs your final approval."

"Has anything changed since the last time I spoke with them?" Elizabeth wondered.

"The inhabitants of 897 are requesting we send a medical team there every thirty-eight cycles," D pressed a hand to her collarbone again, "in addition to the harvest manpower you've already agreed to. Thirty-eight cycles on 897 is roughly equivalent to every twenty-nine days on this planet."

"Remind me to talk to Carson before the meeting," Elizabeth nodded, "I want to check with him before I sign off on that."

"Yes, ma'am," D continued speaking as she typed, "After the meeting with AR-6, we need to go over the revised gate schedule so you can approve it. There is also a new set of requisition forms waiting in your inbox. I didn't see anything problematic except for the botany department."

"The bees again?" Elizabeth sighed wearily, setting the tablet down on her desk.

"Yes, ma'am," D smirked, scratching her shoulder again, "Only this time the form is countersigned by the astrobiology department and by food services. It's becoming more of a petition than a requisition at this point."

"Schedule a meeting as soon as possible," Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "with the heads of those departments so I can explain to them again why we can't have bees on Atlantis."

"You have half an hour at 1530. I'll contact the appropriate people to let them know," D consulted her tablet, "At 1100, you have a meeting with First Sergeant Stiles to go over the latest security reports. You should know, there was an incident with the still in engineering."

"It didn't explode again," Elizabeth asked cautiously, "did it?"

"No, ma'am," D shook her head, "But First Sgt. Stiles was unaware of its existence and the 'as long as no one gets hurt – it's fine' policy regarding alcohol within the City. He made them take it down. The engineers were quite upset they had to throw out the latest batch when they disassembled everything; supposedly it was one of the best distillations yet."

"I'll think of something to tell Stiles," Elizabeth waved a hand, "and I'll stop by the engineering lab later today to speak with Radek about moving the still somewhere less conspicuous. What else?"

"Lt. Cadman has requested that you come to the explosives lab so her team can demonstrate their newest innovation. I believe they've managed to come up with a viable combination of existing explosives and the plants from M4G-610 that the botany department has been cultivating," D scratched again, "There's an hour at 1300, if you want to do that today, ma'am."

"As long as you're not going to complain about me not eating lunch," Elizabeth smiled around the rim of her coffee cup, "that's fine."

"Lunch is scheduled at 1215, Elizabeth," D didn't bother to look up from her tablet, "Dinner is scheduled at 1830."

"You scheduled time for my meals," Elizabeth said blandly.

"I assumed that was the only way to make sure you ate more than once a day," D raised an eyebrow as she looked up at Elizabeth, "I spoke to the kitchen staff about setting a tray aside for you at both times so you can either eat in the mess or your office, whichever you prefer."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "Anything else I need to know before then?"

"My report on the MTI is in your inbox," D gestured towards Elizabeth's tablet, "and Dr. McKay's as well. I also wrote a simple instruction manual for using the database search system, but it's only useful if you read and write semi-fluent Ancient. I didn't get a chance to figure out how to make it translate into any other languages."

"You think you can get the database to translate from Ancient?" Elizabeth wondered curiously.

"From my understanding," D pressed a hand to her shoulder and winced, "the VR room can already translate most languages in real time, the same way the gate does. However, that system requires an exorbitant amount of power, so using it for daily tasks is obviously out of the question. If I had the time to study the technology in that room, and a better understanding of Ancient coding, I might be able to create some sort of rudimentary program for translating information from the database."

"That might be worth looking into," Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, "What happened to your arm?"

"Carson's making me wear a shoulder brace," D half-whined as she scratched again, "It's extremely uncomfortable and it itches like mad."

"Why is Carson making you wear a brace?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Because Ronon dislocated my shoulder yesterday," D huffed, "And I refused to wear a sling."

"Ronon did what?" Elizabeth asked incredulously.

"I put it back," D continued quickly, "and unless Carson completely neglected to read my medical file, he knows very well my body will heal itself perfectly without this ridiculous thing holding my shoulder still. I think he's trying to prove a point by making me wear it."

"D," Elizabeth spoke slowly, "Why did Ronon dislocate your shoulder?"

"Because I punched him in the gut," D answered evenly, "and didn't move away fast enough."

"Why did…" Elizabeth sighed and shook her head, "You know what? Never mind, I don't really need to know. Just…try not to kill each other, okay?"

"We'll try, ma'am," D bit back a smile.


	13. Outlet

Rodney yelled as he stomped across the control room, "You!"

"Me?" the gate technician looked up suddenly.

"Not you," Rodney waved a dismissive hand at the man as he walked past. He stopped next to the console where D was sitting, typing rapidly on a laptop.

"Something I can help you with, Dr. McKay?" D asked lightly, not bothering to look up.

"What is this?" Rodney shook his tablet at her.

"A hand-held touch-screen computer," D answered evenly, "Also known as a data pad or a tablet."

"Oh, ha ha," Rodney scowled, "very funny. That's _not_ what I meant."

"I wasn't trying to be funny. If you want a different answer," D finally stopped typing to look up at Rodney, "You should ask a different question."

"Your report," Rodney stabbed a finger onto the tablet, bringing up a large section of text, "It's in a different language."

"Three actually," D corrected.

"Oh, _excuse me_," Rodney rolled his eyes, "Three languages."

D turned back to her laptop and resumed typing.

"Well?" Rodney asked impatiently.

"Well, what?" D prompted.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Rodney asked through a clenched jaw.

"I'd recommend reading it," D stated blandly, "Either now or later, whichever is more convenient for you."

"_How_ am I supposed to read this?" Rodney questioned loudly.

"Since the report is not in braille," D glanced at the tablet, "I'd suggest using your eyes."

"What language – _languages_," Rodney shook the tablet at her again, "is this report written in?"

"The sections to do with math are in Romanian," D answered calmly, "the sections to do with technology are in Japanese, and the sections to do with neurobiology are in Greek."

"What…why are-why would…" Rodney spluttered, "_What_?"

"Was that all you needed, Dr. McKay?" D questioned, "I'm in the middle of something here."

"Why is your report in Romanian, Japanese, and Greek?" Rodney shouted indignantly.

"My math tutor was Romanian," D responded evenly, "and my biology tutor was Greek."

"And the Japanese?" Rodney asked incredulously.

"I was bored," D said lazily.

Rodney's jaw dropped and he stared at D for a full minute before he yelled, "You wrote your report in three different languages _because you were bored_?"

"Only the Japanese part," D stood and clasped her hands behind her back as Elizabeth emerged from her office.

"Is there a problem here?" Elizabeth asked carefully.

"_This_!" Rodney shoved the tablet towards Elizabeth, "This is the problem. How am I supposed to read this ridiculous excuse of a report if it's in three different languages because _Dr. I-Speak-every-language-known-to-mankind_ got BORED?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Dr. McKay," D chided, "There are close to six thousand languages spoken on Earth alone. I only speak forty. That's less than one percent of the-"

"I _don't care_," Rodney bellowed, "how many languages there are or how many you speak or what percentage that is. I can't read this report if it's in some bizarre language."

"Calm down, Rodney," Elizabeth commanded, "What report?"

"On the MTI," Rodney's face reddened even further, "What else would I be talking about?"

"My copy of the report was in English," Elizabeth looked to D curiously.

"I translated yours, ma'am," D replied easily.

The vein in Rodney's temple started throbbing as he glared at D, "_Why would you only translate Elizabeth's copy_?"

"I didn't feel like translating both of them," D shrugged.

"Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth chastised, "Please give Rodney a copy of the report in English."

"If you insist, ma'am," D took the tablet from Rodney and tapped several keys, "Here you are, Dr. McKay."

"If that was all it took," Rodney snatched the tablet back, "Why didn't you just do that when I got here?"

"Because I was _bored_," D gave Rodney a predatory smile, "And seeing you react to irritation alleviated some of that boredom. I can actually see how fast your blood pressure is rising. You get this little vein, right there," D gestured to his temple, "that starts throbbing when your pulse hits one-twenty. You really should cut back on the sodium in your diet. It's not healthy for you."

The technician Rodney had dismissed earlier snickered loudly, quickly looking back to his work when Rodney turned to glare at him furiously.

"In the future, Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth spoke diplomatically, "Would you please try to find another way to alleviate your boredom?"

"I'll try, ma'am," D inclined her head, clearing the smile from her face, "If you're done with the requisition forms, we can go over the gate schedule now."

"I just finished," Elizabeth nodded, "I was just going to grab another cup of coffee before we started."

"I'll get it, ma'am," D stepped past Rodney to head down the stairs, "Let me know if you need help understanding my report, Dr. McKay. There's lots of really big words that you may have trouble comprehending."

"Two syllables don't count as big words, Dr. Vaughn," Rodney yelled after her angrily.

"Let it go, Rodney," Elizabeth ordered easily.

"That…_woman_," Rodney glared at the stairs where D had been, "gave me a report in three different languages just because she wanted to annoy me."

"Apparently," Elizabeth sighed and turned back to her office, "She's developed a bit of a vindictive streak."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Any idea why Rodney's been slamming things around all day?" John slid into the chair next to Elizabeth, stealing a carrot from her salad and crunching on it before he continued speaking, "Or why he's been yelling at his minions more than usual? Zelenka says he made four people cry before lunch."

"I'd better go finish that-" D started to stand.

"Sit," Elizabeth ordered, "You've finished everything for the next two days, Dr. Vaughn. Would you like to answer the Colonel's question?"

"Not particularly, ma'am," D shook her head as she settled back into her chair.

"What happened?" John looked between Elizabeth and D.

"D," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "Answer the Colonel's question please."

D smiled politely, "Dr. McKay is an egotistical, condescending jackass with poor social skills?"

Elizabeth gave D a hard stare and D sighed, mumbling under her breath in clipped Russian before she straightened in her chair.

"It was suggested to me," D stated flatly, "that I should find a healthier outlet for my anger than the last method I employed. I was annoyed with Dr. McKay because he managed to trigger an unintended response from me yesterday so I decided to get even with him in a non-violent, yet still satisfying manner. I wrote my report on the MTI in three different languages, knowing full well that he didn't understand any of them."

"And?" Elizabeth prompted.

"And when he came to confront me about it in the control room," D continued her recitation, "I antagonized him further by being deliberately obtuse in my responses. Also, before I left I insulted his ego by implying he wouldn't understand the words in the report even if it was in English."

"Yeah," John drawled, "That'd do it."

"In my defense," D huffed petulantly, "I didn't think he'd make that big of a fuss in the middle of the control room. It could've been much worse, you know. I originally decided on breaking into his lab and rotating everything ninety degrees to the left, but I didn't have enough time to do that and finish the instructions on the database searches. Besides," D looked down at her tray and poked at the remains of her dinner with a fork, "he started it."

"Well, someone needs to finish it," John draped an arm over the back of Elizabeth's chair as he stretched out, "'cause I'm pretty sure the scientists are about ten minutes away from forming a lynch mob."

D's eyes snapped up to Elizabeth and her fork clattered onto her tray, "No."

"I didn't say anything," Elizabeth said evenly.

"I will not apologize to that man after he called me an idiot," D insisted, "It was this or punch him in the face repeatedly; which did you prefer?"

"Neither is really an appropriate response," Elizabeth took a sip of water.

"So I'm supposed to let him insult me without any consequences?" D protested, "That hardly seems fair."

"Maybe you should try talking to him about it," Elizabeth suggested calmly.

"Why can't the Colonel deal with him?" D waved her hand at John, "He actually _likes_ McKay. Let Sheppard talk him down."

"I tried before I came here. Didn't work," John shook his head, "Zelenka radioed me when Rodney threatened to erase Dr. Garner's hard drives because she was breathing too loudly."

"See?" D pointed a finger at John, "Colonel Sheppard couldn't deal with him and they're friends. What do you expect me to do?"

"Try talking to Rodney," Elizabeth advised, "I'm sure the two of you can work something out."

"Did you not hear the part about his poor social skills?" D complained, "You know very well that mine aren't any better. What is talking to him going to accomplish?"

"Think of it as a chance for you," Elizabeth held up a hand in warning as D opened her mouth to protest again, "for both of you to practice those social skills."

"Elizabeth," D almost whined, "Please."

"I can make it an order," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "if you'd prefer, Dr. Vaughn."

"I think I might prefer it," D scowled as she stood, "Don't blame me when he says something rude and ends up perforated."

"I'm confident you'll be able to restrain yourself," Elizabeth said dryly.

"We'll see, ma'am," D mumbled as she left with her tray.

"You sure that was a good idea?" John questioned warily.

"Neither of them are going anywhere," Elizabeth leaned back against John's arm, "and I'm not going play referee all the time. They'll have to figure out how to deal with each other eventually and I'd prefer they do it sooner rather than later."

"Okay," John agreed cautiously, "But…'perforated'?"

"I don't think she'll actually hurt Rodney," Elizabeth assured him.

"You thought she was going to yesterday," John reminded her.

"I think they've both had enough time to calm down by now," Elizabeth paused, "But maybe you should head to Rodney's lab in an hour, just to make sure they haven't broken each other."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Good evening, Dr. Vaughn," Radek greeted D as she came into the lab.

"Evening, Dr. Zelenka," D gave him a slight nod, "Do you know where I can find-"

"You!" Rodney shouted across the lab.

"Never mind," D sighed heavily, "I found him."

D followed the yell towards Rodney's workstation, tablets and laptops spread haphazardly across the surface.

"What is this?" Rodney pointed to one of the screens in front of him.

D raised an eyebrow at him, "If I say a computer screen, are you going to get even more upset?"

"This report," Rodney flapped a hand at the screen, "It's-"

"Completely in English?" D interjected.

"You're a laugh-riot," Rodney scowled at her, "You're also a lot smarter than you look, apparently."

"I'm not sure if that was a compliment or an insult," D looked at Rodney curiously, "or possibly an odd combination of the two."

"Ninety percent of my staff," Rodney gestured around the large lab, "couldn't put together a report this comprehensive and well-written if I gave them an entire month, much less do it overnight. And _maybe_ a dozen people in this entire City could grasp the content with the level of understanding that you do, myself included."

D tilted her head to the side, "Is that a bad thing?"

"Yes, it's a bad thing," Rodney answered crossly.

"If you'd like to talk to Dr. Weir about replacing members of your staff," D offered calmly, "I'd be happy to arrange a time for you to speak with her."

"That," Rodney pointed a finger at her, "is exactly what I'm talking about. Why the hell are you scheduling meetings and fetching coffee for Elizabeth?"

"I'm her assistant," confusion came over D's face, "What else should I be doing?"

"Please tell me you're joking," Rodney stared at D, astonishment in his tone when he continued, "You're not joking. You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"No, I don't, Dr. McKay," D stiffened, mumbling under her breath as she turned to leave, "_Я знала, что это была ужасная идея_." [Russian: I knew this was a terrible idea.]

"Wait," Rodney reached out to grab D's arm to stop her.

"Do not touch me without my permission, Dr. McKay," D looked down at the hand clasped around her bicep.

"Sorry," Rodney released her, "Just…hear me out, okay?"

D turned back around slowly, "I'm listening."

"Look, this report is brilliant," Rodney started carefully, "There are things here that even _I_ might not have considered. You'd have to be exceptionally smart to have written this."

"You're upset because my report was too good?" D asked cautiously.

"I'm mad because anyone who's smart enough to do _this_," Rodney pointed at the screen, "should not be wasting their time as someone's assistant. I don't understand why you'd want to spend your time fetching and carrying for someone, even if it is Elizabeth, when you have the potential for so much more."

"I…" D cleared her throat, looking down at the floor, "I appreciate your concern, Dr. McKay, but I'm where I need to be right now."

"Are you sure?" Rodney questioned, "Because you could replace at least six people in this lab alone and if I replace them with you then maybe I'd have room in my budget for that new equipment that I wanted."

"Yes, I'm sure," D lifted her head, "And you already received a dozen new coffee makers. You don't need one for every single lab."

"I take it back," Rodney huffed and turned to face his laptop fully, "You're an idiot."

"And you're a jackass," D snorted, then continued uncertainly, "I have a little time right now, if you wanted…I could go over the neurobiology parts with you. I know you dislike soft sciences."

"Only if you'll get me some coffee first," Rodney waved his empty cup at her.

"The machine's right over there, Doctor," D pointed over her shoulder as she pulled a stool closer to Rodney, "You insisted this and your personal lab were the first to get the new coffee makers. Besides, I'm too smart to be fetching coffee, remember?"

"I should've known that was going to come back and bite me on the ass," Rodney grumbled as he stood.

"I'll take mine black, two sugars," D smirked and moved one of the laptops in front of her, "Thanks, Rodney."

"Anything else I can get you, _Doctor_?" Rodney scowled at her.

D looked over her shoulder at Rodney, "Not unless you're willing to part with some of the Hershey Kisses you have hidden in the bottom drawer of the desk in your office."

"Don't push it, Red," Rodney stalked towards the coffee machine, "I'll be moving my stash before I go to sleep tonight, so don't even _think_ about helping yourself."

* * *

**Special thanks to reader Zoja for fixing my Russian!**


	14. Progress

"Hey, Zelenka," John lifted a friendly hand to the other man as he came into the lab, "Is Rodney still-"

"You _cannot_ be serious," Rodney's loud voice came from the back of the room, "That's ridiculous, even for you."

"Follow the insults," Radek rolled his eyes and pointed towards a set of whiteboards. He grumbled under his breath in Czech as he went back to work on the piece of tech in front of him.

John made his way to the back of the lab, glancing over Rodney's workstation to see two empty coffee cups in the middle of tablets and laptops.

"I am perfectly serious," D's voice was somewhere between amused and annoyed, "How else would it work?"

"You can't make _ludicrous_ assumptions like that," Rodney insisted hotly, "based on little to no evidence."

John came around the set of squiggle-covered whiteboards just in time to see D put her hands on her hips and step towards Rodney.

"Science is _based_ on assumptions," D argued, her chin tilted up in defiance, "The very definition of 'hypothesis' is a supposition or proposed explanation made on the basis of limited evidence as a starting point for further investigation."

"I know what a hypothesis is," Rodney glared down at D.

"Are you sure?" D raised an eyebrow, "Because I'm positive you just told me I couldn't make assumptions in reference to something science related. Should I locate a dictionary for you?"

Rodney pointed an uncapped marker at D's face, "Listen, you little sh-"

"How's it going?" John interrupted.

"Sheppard," Rodney turned to face him tersely, "What are you doing here?"

"Colonel Sheppard is here because Dr. Weir wanted to make sure I didn't unduly damage you," D snatched the marker from Rodney, looking at John curiously as she capped it, "Except he should've been here sooner. Did she give me more than half an hour to talk to McKay?"

"Elizabeth gave the two of you an hour," John admitted as he shoved his hands in his pockets, "But that was three hours ago. Lorne cornered me about inventory and I couldn't get away."

"_What_? Why didn't Elizabeth call me?" D looked down at her watch, "Damn it, Rodney. You made me miss this evening's meeting with the oceanography team."

"Excuse me, Red," Rodney grabbed the marker back, "I didn't make you do anything. And this just proves that Elizabeth doesn't actually need your help to run the City."

"No, Dr. Weir doesn't _need_ anyone's help, but that doesn't mean I can't make things easier for her," D stepped around the whiteboard gracefully, "I'll have to get the security footage from Lieutenant Dorsey so I can file my notes properly. Dorsey is always in a foul mood at the end of his shift."

"But we're not done here," Rodney poked his head around the board.

"I'm sure you can figure it out on your own," D waved a hand at him as she made her way to the door.

"Well, of course I can," Rodney called after her, "because you're _wrong_, idiot. You'd better be back here tomorrow morning to finish this."

"I'm not wrong, jackass," D yelled as she left, "And I don't work for you."

"I take it the two of you worked things out," John followed Rodney back to his desk.

"No," Rodney scowled at one of the laptops, "Because she's still working for Elizabeth."

"Rodney," John sighed, "Dr. Vaughn isn't going anywhere. You're going to have to learn to get along with her."

"What?" Rodney looked up at John, "We get along just fine."

"You just said…" John started.

"That she's still working for Elizabeth," Rodney huffed, "Yes, I know. She shouldn't be."

"Okay," John drawled, "Where should she be working?"

Rodney gave John a baleful look, "For me, obviously."

"You don't need an assistant, McKay," John rolled his eyes.

"Actually, yes, I do," Rodney insisted, "But that's not what I was talking about."

"What were you talking about then?" John asked patiently.

"She's a freaking genius," Rodney grumbled, "Like an almost-as-smart-as-I-am genius."

"And that's…bad?" John questioned.

Rodney gave John another annoyed look, "Yes, that's bad."

"Rodney," John crossed his arms across his chest, "Make sense or I'm leaving."

"Dr. Vaughn should be in a lab somewhere," Rodney explained sullenly, "One of my labs. Doing _important_ work. I tried to convince her to work for me instead of Elizabeth, but she actually _likes_ being an assistant. Can you believe that?"

"I thought she was wrong about whatever the two of you were arguing about," John gestured vaguely towards the whiteboards, "You called her an idiot."

"She is an idiot and she's wrong," Rodney huffed, "_And_ she didn't even stay so we could finish this section. Figuring out exactly how the MTI works and how to duplicate it is a lot more important than some ridiculous meeting with oceanographers."

"You can't figure it out on your own?" John smirked, "Never thought I'd see the day where the great Dr. Rodney McKay admitted he needed help from anyone."

"I don't need help," Rodney bristled, "But Dr. Vaughn was the one who actually read the section of the database about the MTI and wrote the report. It'd go a lot faster if she was here to clarify some of the things she wrote. This will take months, more likely years, to figure out completely. I have dozens of other projects I need to be working on and I can't trust any of the _morons_ that work for me to do more than the most basic tasks unsupervised, much less something of this scale. I can't for the life of me figure out why that woman is more concerned with missing one meeting with people who can barely call themselves scientists than with what could be the greatest technological advancement since electricity was discovered. It's infuriating."

A slow grin spread across John's face.

"What?" Rodney questioned warily, "What are you looking at me like that for?"

"I guess Elizabeth doesn't have to worry about you and Dr. Vaughn killing each other anymore," John drawled, "You like her."

"I do not like her," Rodney protested hotly.

"Yes, you do," John insisted.

"No, I have an extremely reluctant admiration her brain," Rodney corrected with a scowl, "The rest of her is still horribly annoying."

"Whatever you say, Rodney," John grinned, "You still coming to movie night or you too busy with all this?"

"Whose turn is it to pick?" Rodney questioned.

"Mine," John answered easily.

Rodney narrowed his eyes, "Are you going to pick something full of explosions again?"

"Probably," John picked up the empty coffee cups and set them by the small sink, "You coming or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," Rodney waved a hand at him as he started turning off laptops, "Give me two minutes to shut everything down then I have to go by my office to move my chocolate stash."

"You have chocolate hidden in your office?" John asked cautiously.

"Yes," Rodney grumbled, "but apparently it's not as secret as I thought."

"I'll let you pick the movie if you share," John offered hopefully.

"One piece," Rodney insisted, holding up a single finger, "And you stay outside while I'm moving it."

"Two pieces," John countered, "And I won't tell Teyla you have hidden chocolate."

"Deal," Rodney agreed.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

John was sitting in the conference room, talking quietly with Teyla when D came in carrying a stack of tablets.

"Dr. Weir will be here shortly," D started passing out the tablets, "AR-4 was a little late with their check-in, so she's still on the radio with them."

"We're not in a hurry," John accepted the last tablet.

"I don't need this," Ronon tried to give his tablet back to D.

D ignored him, reaching across the table to put her hand under his chin and tilting his head to the side, "Bruising looks much better. Stitches come out soon?"

"Doc says in two days," Ronon agreed with a small nod.

"Good," D smiled as she released his face, "You're keeping the tablet. It took me a little while, but I finally found the written Satedan language in the Ancient database. It's ten-thousand years old, but it might be easier for you to read than English. Take a look and let me know if I need to change anything for you. Teyla, I still haven't found any references to the Athosian language, so I'm afraid your briefing is still in English."

"My people did not develop a written language until well after the Ancestors left this galaxy, so it is doubtful there is a record of it in the database," Teyla smiled softly, "But thank you for your efforts. I would be willing to teach you Athosian, if you have the time."

"I'd appreciate that," D agreed with a hesitant smile, "Maybe when you return from your upcoming mission, I could schedule some time with you."

"I thought the Pegasus gate translated everything," John questioned.

"Only spoken languages," D shook her head, "nothing written. And from my understanding, the Pegasus natives have developed a sort of universal trade language that most planets use anyway."

"Wait a minute," Rodney sat forward, "Ronon's briefing is in Satedan?"

"Yes," D answered easily.

"You had time to learn Satedan for mission briefings that Ronon's probably not even going to read," Rodney scowled, "and you're scheduling Athosian lessons, but you couldn't make any time in the last _week_ to come back and help me work on the MTI?"

"I haven't learned to speak Satedan yet, McKay," D moved to sit in one of the chairs at the head of the table, "Only to write it. Most people find information easier to read and retain if it's written in their native language. All my reports are written with that in mind, specifically tailored to the person they are intended for. Preparing mission briefings is part of my job. Listening to you rant about how you're the smartest person in the room is not."

"I don't do that," Rodney protested.

"Yes, you do," D snorted, "Also, for the record, behind the coffee maker is not any better than in the bottom drawer of your desk. It's like you want them to get stolen."

"How did you…?" Rodney narrowed his eyes at D, "Did you break into my office?"

"What reason do I have to break into your office?" D smiled innocently.

"To steal my ch-" Rodney cut himself off abruptly, looking around the room at the other curious faces.

"Your what, Rodney?" D's smile widened.

"Nice try, Red," Rodney snatched his tablet off the table, "Does this mean my briefing is actually in English this time and not some other random, obscure language?"

"They were not 'random, obscure languages'," D corrected calmly, "On the list of top one hundred spoken languages Greek is number seventy-six, Romanian is number fifty, and Japanese is _ninth_."

Rodney gave her a flat look, "That didn't answer my question."

"I was going to write it in Swahili," the wide smile returned to D's face.

"And what number is Swahili?" John smirked at Rodney's deepening scowl.

"Forty-five," D looked over to John oddly, "spoken by approximately twenty-six million people or zero point three nine percent of Earth's population."

"Are there truly so many different languages on your world?" Teyla asked curiously.

"There are actually about six thousand different spoken languages on Earth," D explained easily, "I speak barely a fraction of them."

"Don't change the subject," Rodney glowered, "Why isn't my briefing written in English like everyone else's?"

"Mine's not," Ronon smirked.

"Ronon's is in Satedan," D smiled politely, "and mine is in Latin. The only reason Teyla's isn't in Athosian is because I haven't learned it yet. Your briefing isn't the only one written in something other than English."

"English is not your native language?" Teyla wondered, "You wear the same flag on your shoulder as Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Weir."

"I learned English and Latin at the same time," D clarified, "So I consider both my native languages. I tend to use them interchangeably."

"I'm from _Canada_. Not…" Rodney protested, waving a hand in a vague gesture, "…wherever Swahili comes from."

"Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda," D supplied helpfully, "There's actually some very impressive landscape in that area."

"Have you been to Africa, Dr. Vaughn?" John inquired.

"Depends on who you ask," D shrugged.

"Can everyone please stay on topic?" Rodney glared at each of his teammates before his annoyed stare settled on D, "And you, stop avoiding my question. Why isn't my report in English? Why is it in Swahili?"

"Since you clogged up my inbox with thirteen emails in the last four days," D replied evenly, "with requests for clarification on a subject you insisted I was wrong about. And if you'd take the time to look at the briefing, you'd see it's not actually in Swahili."

"Why didn't you just say that in the first place?" Rodney scowled at his tablet briefly, "This is French."

"You did say you were from Canada," D smirked, "and I was feeling generous last night."

"I don't know hardly any French," Rodney complained, "I thought you said-"

D stood as Elizabeth walked into the room, "Ma'am."

"Sorry about that," Elizabeth slid into the chair next to D, motioning for her to do the same, "Captain Matthews' team ran into a little bit of trouble on Hiraga."

"Is everything all right?" Teyla asked cautiously, "The people on that planet have always been friendly in my dealings with them."

"It's fine," Elizabeth assured her, "Dr. Lindsay got a little over enthusiastic when speaking to the town elders. The team has decided to stay overnight to celebrate her very recent marriage to Sgt. Connors."

"I see," a smile pulled at the corners of Teyla's mouth, "I'm sure it was a lovely ceremony. The Hiragans' celebratory feasts are quite entertaining and the food is always delicious."

"I'll schedule Dr. Lindsay and Sgt. Connors for a debriefing with the sociology department when they return tomorrow," D made a note on her tablet, "I'm sure sociologists will want to hear about the marriage customs of the Hiragans. Will Dr. Heightmeyer be necessary as well?"

"According to Matthews," Elizabeth smiled wryly, "It was more of a flowers and champagne ceremony than spears and swords. I don't think they'll need Heightmeyer this time, but you can ask when they get back."

"Yes, ma'am," D nodded and slid a tablet in front of Elizabeth.

"Let's talk about," Elizabeth looked down at the screen, "M31-654 now, shall we?"

"My briefing is-" Rodney started.

"Bottom left corner, Dr. McKay," D gestured to his tablet.

"What?" Rodney's face scrunched up as he tapped on the screen, "Oh. Never mind."

Elizabeth sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "Did you decide on Swahili or German, Dr. Vaughn?"

"French, actually," D answered seriously, "but I included an English translation this time."

"I suppose that's progress," Elizabeth shook her head.


	15. Expertise

"So it's a teenage thing," John decided, "pimples, rebellion, life-sucking."

Elizabeth gave John an amused smirk as Carson continued his explanation, "Something like that. The question is, what causes it? If it's due to some chemical deficiency, like a diabetic's inability to process sugar, then it's possible it may be addressed with some kind of drug."

"So Zaddik could be telling the truth," Elizabeth turned back to Carson.

"I'd like to go to the planet and check into it," Carson informed them.

"Is that really necessary?" Elizabeth questioned, "I'm sure we could get a sample, bring it back here for you to analyze."

"It's not just the drug I'm interested in," Carson admitted, "This young Wraith could be very important for our research."

"What research?" John inquired.

"We're working on a retrovirus that would alter Wraith DNA," Carson explained, "essentially stripping out the iratus bug elements of their genetic code and leaving only the human aspects behind."

"A drug that turns Wraith into humans?" John asked warily.

"Effectively, yes," Carson agreed, "But so far, we haven't had much success, partly because we lack the living tissue and blood samples we need to test it."

"You think this girl would be willing to provide them?" Elizabeth looked back to John.

When John only shrugged in response, Carson continued, "Look, I realize we can't bring her back to Atlantis, but I could take the retrovirus and the equipment necessary for the analysis with me to the planet. A few days with a cooperative test subject could be worth months of theoretical research. Elizabeth, I don't have to tell you how important this could be for us."

"Is she dangerous?" Elizabeth asked John.

"She's a Wraith," John paused, continuing reluctantly, "Although, I have to admit she does seem a little different."

"All right, Carson," Elizabeth agreed cautiously, "But please be careful."

"Thank you, Elizabeth," Carson smiled.

"Would you excuse us for a moment, Colonel Sheppard?" D asked politely.

"Sure," John hopped off the bed, "I'm going to go find Ronon and let him know we'll be headed back in…how long you need, Doc? An hour?"

"An hour and a half," D answered before Carson could, "There's something I need Dr. Beckett to do before he leaves."

"Hour and a half then," John nodded to Elizabeth as he left.

"Before you start collecting your equipment, Dr. Beckett," D spoke quietly, "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course, dear," Carson nodded.

"How long have you been working on this retrovirus?" D questioned evenly.

"Only since we got back from Earth," Carson replied easily.

"Since you got back," D repeated flatly.

"Well, yes…" Carson paled as he trailed off.

"Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth cautioned.

"No," Carson insisted firmly, holding D's stormy gray, emotionless stare, "Absolutely not. I wouldn't do that."

"I find the timing, Dr. Beckett," D said coolly, "more than a little suspect. Within mere months of learning about previously unknown genetic experiments on Earth, you've managed to develop a retrovirus that strips away unwanted DNA, changing the base genetic code of your test subject. I'm sure given the similarities between the two projects, you can understand my concern."

"The concepts are similar, yes, but I assure you, they are distinctly different. I've been toying with the idea for the retrovirus since Colonel Sheppard encountered the iratus bug last year," Carson explained, "I've only had the time and resources to explore it further since we reconnected with Earth."

D stepped closer to Carson, pressing the fingers of her right hand lightly along his jaw.

"You're going to copy all of your research on this retrovirus to my email," the order was clear in D's tone, "Before you leave."

Carson nodded quickly, "I will."

"And Carson?" D asked sweetly.

"Yes?" Carson replied uneasily.

D gripped Carson's chin, holding him in place as a dangerous smile spread over her face, "If I find anything that connects to Evolution, even remotely, I will be extremely displeased with you. I don't think you'll be happy with the way in which I choose to express that displeasure. Is that understood?"

"Yes, I…" Carson swallowed nervously, "I understand, Dr. Vaughn."

"Good," D released him abruptly, eyes pale gray and expression neutral again as she turned to Elizabeth, "If you'll excuse me, ma'am, I need to set up the conference room for the meeting with the engineering staff."

"Go ahead," Elizabeth said calmly, "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"The meeting doesn't start for ten minutes, ma'am," D turned to leave, "There's no rush."

"Bloody hell," Carson let out a shaky breath as D disappeared from the infirmary, "I knew she was…but I've…I didn't think…"

"Take a breath," Elizabeth ordered calmly.

"You know I would never use anything from that project, Elizabeth," Carson insisted quickly, "I'll admit the principles behind the retrovirus are somewhat similar to the experiments they were doing, but it is in absolutely _no way_ based on that research."

"I know, Carson," Elizabeth said soothingly, "After everything she's experienced because of it, D is naturally wary of anything even partially resembling Evolution. I wouldn't take it personally. I'm sure once she reads your research, she'll understand."

"I'll be sure to give her a copy of everything before I leave," Carson paused and frowned slightly, "Her eyes got darker. Not dilated pupils, but the actual pigment in the irises changed to a deeper gray, from the outside in. I've never seen anything like that before."

"Yes, I saw," Elizabeth agreed thoughtfully, "It happened last week in my office too, when Rodney set her off. Her eyes were nearly black, but changed back to their normal color after she calmed down."

"I wonder if that's another of the unintended side-effects of the project," Carson pondered, "Perhaps something to do with extra adrenaline. I would ask D about it, but I don't know how well my questions would be received right now."

"Maybe when you get back," Elizabeth offered as she turned to leave, "I'd better go. I have a meeting to prepare for and you have equipment to pack."

"Yes, of course," Carson smiled, "Good luck."

"You too," Elizabeth returned his smile over her shoulder, "And be careful."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Incoming wormhole," Chuck announced, "Colonel Sheppard's IDC. He's reporting minor injuries."

"Lower the shield," Elizabeth ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," Chuck nodded.

When Elizabeth turned to D, she was already reaching up to tap her earpiece, "Did they say what the nature of the injuries were, Sergeant?"

"Ms. Emmagan took a blow to the head but is conscious and alert, Colonel Sheppard has a laceration to the arm that's been temporarily bandaged, and…" Chuck paused shortly, then cleared his throat, "and apparently Dr. McKay has a very serious splinter, ma'am."

D kept her expression carefully blank as she relayed the information over the radio, then looked up at Elizabeth, "Medical personal are on their way, ma'am. Two minutes. Will you be delaying the mission briefing with AR-5 to accompany AR-1 to the infirmary?"

"It doesn't sound like anything too serious," Elizabeth shook her head, "I'll go ahead with the briefing. But…would you mind going with Sheppard's team to get me a preliminary report?"

"Of course not, ma'am," D nodded and handed Elizabeth her tablet, "Everything you need for the meeting is on your tablet. Stackhouse's team should be waiting in the conference room. Call me if you need anything."

"Thank you, D," Elizabeth smiled as she crossed the control room, "Let me know as soon as you have an update."

"How long until AR-1's jumper arrives, Sgt. Campbell?" D asked calmly.

"Should be coming through in just a couple minutes," Chuck informed her.

"I'll head up to wait with the med team then," D turned towards the stairs, "Let me know if anything changes."

D made her way quietly to the jumper bay, giving the medics a silent nod as they came in just behind her. The small group waited patiently until the jumper came up from the gate room, landing easily off to the side. The ramp opened and the medics moved forward quickly to help Teyla onto a gurney.

"I am fine," Teyla claimed, "Merely a bump on the head."

"Better safe than sorry, love," Carson insisted from behind her, handing off his gear to a uniformed man, "Take her straight to the scanner, please."

"I see things didn't go quite according to plan," D raised an eyebrow at Carson as the medics rolled Teyla away, Ronon following quietly behind them.

"Not quite," Carson frowned sadly, motioning the rest of the medics and the second gurney forward, "On you go, Colonel."

"Come on, Doc," Sheppard emerged from the jumper with Rodney at his side, "It's really not that bad. You looked at it on the planet."

"I'll take the ride," Rodney held one of his fingers in his other hand.

"Rodney," Carson sighed, "You do not need a gurney for your finger."

"McKay can have the ride for his little boo-boo," Sheppard handed his and Teyla's P90s to a waiting Marine, "I can walk."

"I'm sure you can," Carson agreed, "But you're getting on the gurney anyway. I won't have you fainting in the hallway from blood loss."

"I'm injured too," Rodney complained, "How come Sheppard gets a ride and I don't?"

"Because his injury is worse than yours," Carson answered evenly.

"This could get infected," Rodney waved his finger in front of Carson's face.

"Infected," John nodded his agreement.

"No arguments," Carson shook his head.

"We're not arguing," John gave Carson a lopsided smile, "We both agree that Rodney can have the gurney."

"We do," Rodney nodded.

"I meant no arguing with _me_," Carson frowned at the two of them.

"_Я не получаю достаточно денег за что мне надо делать_," D muttered under her breath, her voice strong when she continued, "Colonel Sheppard, get on the gurney. Dr. McKay, start walking." [Russian: I do not get paid enough for this.]

When the two men only stared at D curiously instead of moving, she put her hands on her hips and glared at them.

"Now, boys," D commanded impatiently, "Standing around in the jumper bay isn't doing anyone any good."

"You can't tell me what to do," Rodney pouted.

"I think she just did, Rodney," John snorted as he hopped onto the gurney.

"If you can make it all the way to the infirmary without complaining, Dr. McKay," D offered calmly, "I'll work with you in your lab for an entire day on whichever project you want."

"Really?" Rodney brightened as he followed the medics to the door, "An entire day like a work day or an entire day like a rotation of this planet around the sun?"

"A full twenty-seven hours," D clarified, "But Dr. Beckett is the one who gets to decide if you're complaining or not."

"Twenty-seven hours of only work time," Rodney narrowed his eyes at D, "Or twenty-seven hours including breaks for food and sleeping? Because I don't think your breaks should count against my time."

"Rodney," Carson scolded, "People have to eat and sleep on a regular basis."

"It's fine, Carson. I've gone longer without either," D smiled kindly at him before turning back to Rodney, "Twenty-seven hours not including breaks, but that does include any time you spend ranting about how smart you are compared to everyone else."

"And I can pick whatever project I want?" Rodney questioned gleefully, "Even something you've never heard of or something from the Ancient database?"

"Any project you choose," D agreed, "But it might be a good idea to pick something within my area of expertise because I'm not giving you any more time than I've already offered. I learn quickly, but not that quickly."

"What exactly is your expertise, Dr. Vaughn?" John wondered.

"I am experienced in linguistics, international relations, neurobiology," D replied easily, "biochemistry, organic chemistry, human anatomy, genetics, logistics, forensic science, military engineering, security engineering, behavioral analysis, forensic psychology, kinesiology, predictive analytics, and cryptology."

"What did you say you did before you came here?" John inquired warily.

"High-risk threat assessments," D responded smoothly.

"Is there anything you don't do, Red?" Rodney asked incredulously.

D looked thoughtful for a moment before she responded seriously, "According to Dr. Beckett and Dr. Weir, I don't deal with irritation in an appropriate manner. And Sgt. Campbell informs me that my sense of humor is terribly underdeveloped. Also, I'm not very good with social interactions involving large groups of people…or small groups of people…or any people really," D paused, "May I ask you a question, Dr. McKay?"

"I guess?" Rodney eyed D cautiously.

"Why do you call me Red?" D tilted her head to the side, "That's not my name."

"It's a nickname…" when D only continued to stare at him curiously, Rodney gestured toward her hair, "Because you have that weird shade of dark red hair. And because no matter what you say, 'D' is not a name, it's a letter of the alphabet and I refuse to call you that. No one's ever called you Red before?"

"No," D shrugged, "But I've never really had a nickname, so that's probably why."

"Technically speaking," John drawled, "Wouldn't 'D' be considered a nickname? Isn't that short for your real name?"

"Technically, yes," D agreed, ducking her head to look at the floor, "But I don't really remember what my birth name was-_is_, only that it started with the letter D."

"I thought you had an eidetic memory," Rodney scowled, "Shouldn't you remember pretty much everything about your entire life?"

"That name was from before-" D replied quietly, "…It's incredibly complicated, Dr. McKay."

"Before what?" Rodney asked curtly, "How can you not-"

"This really isn't necessary, Doc," John interrupted, poking at the bandage on his arm as he was wheeled into the infirmary.

"Yes, it is," Carson insisted calmly, "You've got a serious laceration on your arm and you've lost a good deal of blood."

"Yeah, well, enjoy the ride, Colonel," Rodney grumbled, his questions forgotten, "They're making me walk."

"You have a splinter, Rodney," Carson rolled his eyes.

"Yes," Rodney hopped onto an empty gurney, "A very nasty, painful splinter."

D gave John a short, thankful nod as Carson started unwinding the field dressing from his arm.

* * *

**Special thanks to reader Zoja for fixing my Russian!**


	16. Practice

"Flight confirms that the Daedalus is on schedule, ma'am," D walked into Elizabeth's office, setting a tablet on top of her desk, "They should be landing in less than half an hour."

"Good," Elizabeth nodded without looking up from her work, "Lt. Kemp and his platoon?"

"Ready to begin off-loading supplies as soon as the ship lands," D informed her, "There are only a dozen new personnel this time, all civilians."

"I still have a few more progress reports to go through," Elizabeth gestured to her laptop, "Would you mind…?"

"I'll head over to help get them settled as soon as I'm done here, ma'am," D offered, "Last night's security reports?"

"I signed off on those," Elizabeth replied, "Already in the file for transmission to Earth. The requisition forms are done as well, minus any last minute additions."

"There will be at least two," D said thoughtfully, "Dr. Campbell should realize she needs more test tubes by the end of the day and Dr. Schultz will be requesting three more external hard drives in the next twelve hours."

"Schultz needs more hard drives?" Elizabeth looked up with a slight scowl, "Didn't he just get six new ones last month?"

"Yes, ma'am," D agreed, "But Dr. Kappel received eight. The two of them were getting along as of this morning, so when Schultz goes into Kappel's lab for their afternoon tea…"

"He'll see that Kappel has two more hard drives," Elizabeth sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "And the feud will be back on."

"I recommend you agree to two of the three hard drives he requests," D suggested, "then either have them fill out joint requisition forms or let me edit their separate forms. Either solution will cut down on the excessive ordering caused by their competitiveness."

"We'll try having them fill out joint forms for the next two months," Elizabeth decided, "Then if that doesn't work, you can start adjusting the forms to sensible numbers."

"Yes, ma'am," D nodded, "I'll let Drs. Schultz and Kappel know as soon as I'm done with orientation for the new personnel. Did you receive my preliminary report on Colonel Sheppard's team?"

"I did," Elizabeth pursed her lips, "How are they doing?"

"Dr. Beckett released Ms. Emmagan from the infirmary this morning," D informed her, "No concussion, just a minor laceration on the back of her head. Colonel Sheppard's wound was no longer visible when Beckett examined it. Beckett drew blood samples, did several scans, and is currently awaiting the results. Dr. McKay's splinter was successfully removed. All three are cleared for active duty. You should also know, in order to expedite the trip to the infirmary, I agreed to work in Dr. McKay's lab for twenty-seven hours."

"You did?" Elizabeth bit back a smile, "How did that happen?"

"I told McKay if he could make it from the jumper bay to the infirmary without complaining," D let out an annoyed sigh, "I would work in his lab with him for an entire day."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "And he actually made it the whole way?"

"Just inside the door," D rolled her eyes, "So technically, yes. If there are any days in particular you think you'll need me, let me know so I can schedule around them."

"The only thing I can think of is that trip to Frente for the harvest ceremony," Elizabeth replied, "but that's not for two weeks."

"I don't suppose you could come up with any more work for me?" D asked hopefully.

Elizabeth laughed, "You already do all of your work and at least half of mine days ahead of time. I'm still not convinced that you actually sleep."

"I sleep," D protested with a slight pout, "Three hours every night. Unless I'm injured, that's all my body requires. Why would I sleep more than that when I could be getting work done?"

"Don't you do anything besides work?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"I run or swim for at least an hour every morning," D answered seriously, "Followed by an hour of strength training or flexibility exercises on alternating days. And I have a standing appointment to spar with Ronon twice a week provided neither of us are off-world."

"I meant _fun_," Elizabeth clarified, "Don't you do anything just because it's fun?"

"Sparring with Ronon is fun," D looked at Elizabeth curiously, "Is there something else I should be doing?"

"Well," Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, "There's always movie or two playing in one of the mess halls – they start at 2000 every evening. Dr. Zelenka is the head of the chess club, so you could speak to him about joining one of their tournaments. Dr. Esposito teaches a salsa dancing class twice a week. Lt. Kagan formed a knitting circle that meets every five days. I'm in a book club with Kate Heightmeyer and Marie Ko, among others."

"But none of those activities serve a purpose," D tilted her head to the side, "What's the point?"

"The point is to relax and unwind," Elizabeth explained, "Do something that is not work-related. Learn something new. To have fun."

"Will any of those activities get me out of working with McKay?" D scrunched up her nose, "Because that would really help me relax."

"No," Elizabeth shook her head, "I doubt it. But you should try one or two of them anyway. It's a good way to get to know the people in the City," D hummed doubtfully as Elizabeth continued with a grin, "And you can practice those social skills you think are so terrible."

"I'll let you get back to your progress reports, ma'am," D gave Elizabeth a flat stare, "I'll come back after I finish orientation, but feel free to call before then if you need anything."

"I will," Elizabeth laughed and went back to her laptop, "Remember to tell the new people to stay away from the South Pier. It's still damaged from the last flood."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"But, for one," Elizabeth asserted, "Ellia was a Wraith. And she took a massive dose of the retrovirus. I mean, do we know how the Colonel's system might respond to the drug?"

"Dr. Beckett," D asked quietly, "May I see Colonel Sheppard's test results?"

"I have no idea, Elizabeth," Carson handed the nearby tablet to D, "It was never engineered to be given to a human. It was never intended-"

"Doc," John interrupted.

"-to be given to anyone," Carson finished.

"Let it go," John ordered easily.

"The problem is," Carson scowled, "I have no idea how your body will react. I can't even begin to guess."

"Well, if how I feel is any indication?" John responded, "I'm fine."

"It's certainly possible that it's already breaking down in your system," Carson agreed hopefully, "Ellia's transformation was extreme and immediate."

John looked to Elizabeth, "See?"

"But the wound on your arm healed unnaturally fast," Carson insisted.

"If there was a wound," John countered.

"There had to be," Carson frowned, "Otherwise, I don't see how you got infected in the first place."

"She was spitting an awful lot," John tried.

Carson gave John a dirty look as D handed back the tablet.

"Do you have a scalpel close by, Doctor?" D inquired evenly, "And alcohol wipes?"

"In the supply cabinets over there," Carson pointed to a nearby cabinet, "What do you need them for?"

"To test a theory," D answered absently, already crossing to retrieve the supplies from the cabinet.

"What theory?" Elizabeth asked curiously when D returned.

"Whether or not the Colonel's system is breaking down the retrovirus and whether it's effecting him in the same way as Ellia," D set the supplies on the bed next to John and eyed Carson thoughtfully, "I don't suppose you'll let me use your arm for a comparison?"

"Not if you're planning to use that scalpel," Carson shook his head, "No one needs to be cutting anyone. We can run more tests and I'll get the results back in a couple hours."

"Would you rather wait for Dr. Beckett's test results, Colonel?" D looked over to John, "Or would you prefer to know now?"

"I'd prefer no one get hurt because of me," John replied, "But I guess I'd like to know sooner rather than later if I'm going to turn into a giant bug."

"Take off your jacket, please," D opened one of the alcohol wipes, "I'll use my own arm for the second test. The healing factor will be slightly different than normal, but I can take that into account."

John removed his jacket, laying it on the other side of the bed next to him, "What exactly are you planning on doing, Dr. Vaughn?"

"I'm going to make a small incision at the wound site," D took his right arm, swabbing a small section of skin with the wipe, "Then I'm going to make an identical incision in the same location on my own arm and compare the initial healing process between the two wounds. One of the biggest differences between the iratus or Wraith DNA and that of a normal human is the inhibiting proteins present in humans."

"Those proteins prevent rapid cellular regeneration in humans," Carson agreed, "Since Wraith DNA is closer to iratus bug than human, very few of those proteins are present, giving them the ability to rapidly regenerate and heal any wound. Oh, I understand where you're going with this now."

"Care to share?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"Carson," D prompted as she picked up a thick piece of gauze, holding it under John's arm.

"If the retrovirus is already breaking down in Colonel Sheppard's system," Carson explained, "the wound will heal slowly, at close to a normal human rate, and it shouldn't be visible at all. If not, the wound should heal quickly, and the healing should be fairly apparent. By making the incision at the wound site, we'll get the highest concentration of retrovirus and the best results."

D picked up the scalpel, holding it precisely in her left hand as she made a small cut in John's forearm. Blood began welling up immediately, rolling down the side of John's arm to soak into the gauze in D's other hand. She set the scalpel down on a discarded wrapper and used the hand with the gauze to begin wiping blood away.

D narrowed her eyes as she finished cleaning the blood, "I guess that answers that question."

"What does?" John looked down at his arm.

"I don't think we'll need to compare wounds," D released his arm, moving to the side so Carson could get a good look.

"Oh good lord," Carson frowned, "It's healed already."

"What does that mean exactly?" Elizabeth asked nervously, "The retrovirus isn't breaking down?"

"It's doubtful," Carson shook his head, "Even at the wound site, for the incision to have healed this quickly means there is still a substantial amount in the Colonel's system. It's been over twelve hours since he's been infected. If the retrovirus was going to break down, I believe it would've started by now."

"Maybe Dr. Vaughn didn't cut that deep?" John said hopefully.

"I cut exactly eight millimeters into your forearm," D responded carefully, "This test is not one hundred percent accurate, obviously, but taking into account contributing factors such as your age, your physiology, the neatness of the cut, the placement of the cut-"

"D," Elizabeth interrupted, "Bottom line."

"I agree with Dr. Beckett, ma'am," D concluded, "The cut took less than ten seconds to heal. It's highly unlikely that the Colonel's system is breaking down the retrovirus as we hoped."

"So what does that mean?" John asked warily.

"Without running additional tests," Carson hesitated, "I can't really say for sure."

"Your best guess?" Elizabeth crossed her arms across her chest.

"I would guess," Carson gave John an apologetic look, "that the retrovirus will begin to alter the Colonel's DNA and he'll devolve into a creature similar to what Ellia became."

"How long until that happens?" Elizabeth questioned, "Months, weeks?"

"Again, without running tests I can't say for sure," Carson answered quietly, "But considering what happened to Ellia, I'd say we have days."

"Okay," John spoke calmly, "What's the plan?"

"Well," Carson replied, "I can inject you with a viral inhibitor that should help slow the progress of the retrovirus, but I can't be certain how well the inhibitor will work or if it will work at all. I'd like you to stay in the infirmary for now so I can begin running more comprehensive tests to determine exactly what the retrovirus is doing to your DNA and at what rate."

"How do we fix this?" Elizabeth wondered, "Is there anything in the Ancient database about the iratus bugs or the Wraith that would help?"

"I've found very little about the Wraith in the database, ma'am," D answered, "but I can locate what information there is, as well as the entry about the iratus bugs while Dr. Beckett performs his first set of tests. Dr. Zelenka developed a basic translation program that should only take an hour or so to translate the sections. I'll also have one of the conference rooms set up for anyone on his staff with a background in genetics so they can begin to research solutions."

"I'll give you a list of names before you go," Carson agreed.

Elizabeth looked to John, "And you should probably-"

"Suspend my off-world activities until we know more?" John proposed.

"Yes," Elizabeth nodded.

"If you'll come with me, Carson," D picked up the used supplies from the bed next to John, "you can give me a list of personnel and supplies you think you'll need."

"Of course," Carson followed her out of the room.

"Beckett will figure this out, Elizabeth," John hopped off the bed, "Don't worry."

"Shouldn't I be the one reassuring you?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him.

"Okay," John gave her a lopsided grin, "Let's hear it then."

"Well, I'm can't now," Elizabeth said dryly, "You already took my best lines. I didn't have anything else prepared."

"If 'Beckett will figure this out' and 'don't worry' are your best lines," John drawled, "then you should probably practice your bedside manner."

"I'll work on it," Elizabeth smiled up at him, "We are going to beat this, John, and you're going to be fine."

"That wasn't really any better," John grinned back fondly, "But thanks for the effort."


	17. Personal Feelings

"Is this really necessary, ma'am?" D asked evenly.

"Unfortunately," Elizabeth sighed, "I think it is. Dr. Beckett's team seems to be making progress, but it's still going to be a long time before Colonel Sheppard can resume his normal duties."

"Major Lorne is perfectly capable of fulfilling the role of Military Commander while Colonel Sheppard is unavailable," D stated carefully, "Lorne is currently doing the majority of the administrative duties anyway."

"While that may be true," Elizabeth agreed, "Colonel Caldwell is the ranking military officer in Atlantis right now. Regardless of your personal feelings towards the man, he is the appropriate person to take Colonel Sheppard's position."

"It's not about-" D cut herself off abruptly, flattening her lips together in a thin line.

"It's not about what?" Elizabeth wondered.

"Nothing, ma'am," D shook her head.

Elizabeth laid a hand on D's arm, pulling them both to a stop in the hallway, "It's not about what, D?"

"I was going to say it's not about my personal feelings, ma'am," D kept her eyes on the floor, "but I guess that's not really true."

"Do you want to tell me?" Elizabeth asked softly.

"It's just…" D glanced up and down the hallway to make sure they were alone before she spoke quietly, "I don't trust Colonel Caldwell. There's something…not right about him. I can't really explain it. He exudes a feeling of…I don't want to say arrogance because that's not quite accurate. It's somehow more than that. Caldwell has made no attempt whatsoever to hide his disdain for the senior staff of this expedition. I would think that someone of Caldwell's rank, someone with his military service record, someone employed with the SGC in _any_ leadership capacity, would be more respectful of others in leadership positions, no matter how he feels about them personally. I've dealt with a lot of different types of people during my previous employment and I learned quickly that the arrogant ones are some of the most dangerous. They believe they are superior to everyone else and act accordingly. I've developed very good instincts, out of sheer necessity, when it comes to determining whether a person has the capacity for violence and whether or not they have the mental state to act in a violent manner. Ronon has the capacity and mental state to cause a great deal of destruction, but I have no problems with him, in fact, I consider him a friend. Caldwell makes me twitchy. He sets off every self-preservation instinct I have."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "How long have you been holding that in?"

"Since our trip on the Daedalus," D winced and ducked her head down again, "Sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to rant like that."

"It's fine," Elizabeth squeezed D's arm gently, "Feel better?"

"A little bit," D admitted reluctantly.

"I understand your concerns," Elizabeth released D, "But unfortunately, this isn't a decision I can make based on your instincts, no matter how finely tuned they may be."

"I know," D sighed, "And even though intellectually I understand that this situation is not Caldwell's fault, I can't help but feel that he's about to get exactly what he's wanted the entire time: control of Atlantis."

"I'm still in charge of the City," Elizabeth assured her, "And this is only temporary position for Caldwell."

"In that case," D straightened, "Let's get this over with so I can go find out if there's anything I can do to speed up Dr. Beckett's search for a cure."

"If you want to go help Carson now," Elizabeth started walking down the hall again, "I can speak to Caldwell by myself."

"Elizabeth," D raised an eyebrow as she followed the other woman down the hall, "I just told you that man sets off every warning bell in my head. What makes you think I'm going to leave you alone with him?"

"I don't suppose this is a good time to tell you that he and I played several games of chess in my office last night," Elizabeth said casually, "He showed up about five minutes after you left for the night."

"In the future, Dr. Weir," D replied evenly, "I would prefer you not be alone with Colonel Caldwell under any circumstances."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," Elizabeth smiled wryly, "And in the future, Dr. Vaughn, feel free to come to me about your personal feelings instead of bottling them up."

"I'll try to keep that in mind, ma'am," D agreed as she waved a hand over the control panel to open the door in front of them.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Look," John pointed to the guard behind him as he came into Elizabeth's office, "I made a new friend."

"It's only protocol," Elizabeth set down the tablet she was holding.

"That's your answer for everything," John drawled.

"The protocol you are referring to," D stated calmly, "was put in place by you during your time as Military Commander of Atlantis."

"And you're stating the obvious again," John snarked.

"You look…well," Elizabeth glanced down to John's blue scaled hand before he shoved it in his pocket self-consciously, "Should you be out of bed?"

"I was going a bit crazy down there," John confessed, "so they said I could walk around for a bit."

"That's good," Elizabeth smiled politely.

John and Elizabeth stared at each other awkwardly until John took a quick step forward, "Look, what I'm trying to say is that I want to go on this mission."

"Hey, you said it yourself," Elizabeth moved out from behind the desk, "You are not fit for any off-world activity."

"The inhibitor that Beckett's got me on," John said carefully, "the one that's keeping me lucid? They keep having to up the dose."

"I know," Elizabeth admitted, "They told me."

"I don't know how much time I have," John spoke through a clenched jaw, "but the last thing I want to do is sit on my," John pulled his blue hand from his pocket, waving it between the two of them, "_mutating_ _hands_ while my team puts their lives on the line trying to find me a cure. I should be with them."

"No," Elizabeth shook her head, "I'm sorry."

John took a step back, "What's the worst that could happen? I…I die?"

"You could compromise the mission," D stepped around the desk, moving closer to Elizabeth.

"They have enough things to worry about-" Elizabeth continued.

"Oh, whoa, whoa, what?" John interrupted, "Suddenly I'm a liability?"

"Your condition can change rapidly," Elizabeth said steadily.

"I know," John raised his voice, "And I know I can do this."

"I'm…" Elizabeth started, "…_glad_ you feel that way. But it would be irresponsible of me-"

"This is my life we're talking about," John protested hotly.

"I know that," Elizabeth insisted.

As John and Elizabeth continued to stare at each other, neither willing to look away first, D slipped around them silently, moving to stand next to the wary guard in the doorway.

"I'm going on that mission," John said quietly.

"No, John," Elizabeth lifted her chin, "You're not."

"_DAMN IT_!" John yelled in frustration. He whirled around, smashing his blue, scaly hand into the glass panel behind him, sending a shower of glass shards falling to the ground.

D had the guard's sidearm in her hands, steadily trained on John before the guard could raise his stunner in response to John's outburst.

"Stand down, Sheppard," D ordered coolly, finger resting on the barrel of the gun next to the trigger, "Or my first shot goes between your eyes."

"It's okay," Elizabeth stepped over the glass, gesturing for D and the guard to lower their weapons, "Put them down."

The guard lowered his stunner but D didn't move, black gaze unwavering as she spoke evenly, "_Periculosa ipse est_." [Latin: He is dangerous.]

"_Non ad me_," Elizabeth insisted softly. [Latin: Not to me.]

D lowered the gun slowly, keeping her grip tight as she pointed it towards the floor, "_S'il bouge dans votre direction, je lui tire dessus_." [French: If he moves toward you, I will shoot him.]

John looked down at the broken shards of glass around his feet, then back up to Elizabeth, "I'm betting that didn't sell you?"

"No," Elizabeth shook her head.

"I should go back to the infirmary," John suggested.

"Yes," Elizabeth agreed firmly.

The guard looked at D expectantly, holding out his hand. D flicked her glance to Elizabeth, then thumbed the safety on the gun.

"Not to the infirmary," D insisted as she slid the gun back into the guard's holster, bypassing his outstretched hand, "Colonel Sheppard goes back to his room. He can be monitored from there."

"That's probably a good idea. The infirmary isn't really secure," John moved out onto the walkway behind the guard, then turned back to D with a wary look on his face, "Did you threaten to shoot me in the head, Dr. Vaughn?"

"It was not a threat, Colonel Sheppard," D replied smoothly, "It was a statement of fact."

"I didn't know your job description," John looked between Elizabeth and D, "included shooting people."

D moved close to John, lowering her voice so only he could hear, "My job is to do whatever is necessary to ensure Dr. Weir remains the leader of the Atlantis Expedition for as long as possible. That includes dealing with any threats to her well-being in the manner of my choosing. I suggest you keep that in mind, John, because I take my job very seriously. Do you understand?"

"I understand," John narrowed his eyes, "But you and I are going to have a talk about this, when things are…back to normal."

"No, we aren't," D gave him a dangerous smile, "This will be the only time we have this conversation, Sheppard. And this will be the only time I ever give you a warning; if you ever threaten Elizabeth's safety again, I will _end_ you," she stepped back and looked over his shoulder, raising her voice to a normal volume, "Sgt. Baumann, please escort the Colonel to his quarters and ensure that he remains there until further notice."

"Yes, ma'am," Baumann moved to the side to let John pass.

"I understand you have personal feelings for Colonel Sheppard, ma'am," D turned back to Elizabeth, her expression neutral as she spoke, "But you need to trust my judgment when it comes to your personal safety."

"I do," Elizabeth said resolutely, "But you need to trust _my_ judgment when I tell you; I know John Sheppard. He wouldn't have hurt me."

"Elizabeth," D's expression softened, eyes fading back to their normal ash, "You're the first person in my entire life that I ever have trusted completely. And any other time, I would agree with you. Sheppard would end his own life rather than purposely hurt anyone he cared for. But that," D gestured to the door John left through, "was not John Sheppard. The iratus DNA is beginning to take over his cognitive processes. He is becoming an animal in the form of Sheppard's body. He didn't realize what he was doing until after he had already broken the window. Your faith in him will not protect you when the time comes. I will."

"Would you have killed him," Elizabeth pressed her hands down on her desk, "if he had moved toward me again?"

"Yes," D replied without hesitation, "Do you truly believe that Sheppard won't harm you?"

"Yes," Elizabeth answered just as quickly, then continued uncertainly, "If it comes down to it and you have to…to…"

"He frightened you just now," D tilted her head to the side, "Are you asking me not to kill him? Or are you asking me to kill him quickly?"

"I don't know, D. I really don't," Elizabeth admitted, rubbing a hand down her face, "If Carson can't fix this…"

"Unless you specifically order me to terminate him, I won't. If and when you give the order, I am fully capable of making it quick and painless for him. Until that time, ma'am," D placed a gentle hand on Elizabeth's wrist, "I _promise_ I will do whatever I can to keep him safe for you, so long as doing so doesn't put your life in danger."

"Thank you, D," Elizabeth sighed and laid her hand on top of D's, "I don't think I'll ever be able to give you an order like that. I have to believe that Carson's cure will work."

"The science is sound," D reassured her, "As long as they're able to get the iratus bug stem cells, I see no reason the cure won't work."

"As long as they can get the eggs," Elizabeth nodded.

"If I ask you not to meet with Colonel Sheppard alone until this is over," D stepped back, releasing Elizabeth's arm, "will you actually listen?"

"You do know I'm a grown woman," Elizabeth said dryly, "and I don't actually need a chaperone, don't you?"

"Around potentially dangerous people you do," D insisted, "And you didn't answer my question."

"Aren't you potentially dangerous?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not potentially dangerous, Elizabeth," D corrected easily, "I _am_ dangerous."

"Not to me," Elizabeth insisted softly.

"Never to you, ma'am," D inclined her head respectfully.

"You can be my chaperone," Elizabeth agreed, "At least until this whole thing is resolved."

"Thank you. I'll call maintenance about the glass in a minute," D moved over to Elizabeth's desk to pick up the discarded tablet from earlier, "Now, before we're interrupted again, there are some things you need to see. It seems Caldwell has been a very busy man in his first few hours as Military Commander of Atlantis."

"Oh, has he?" Elizabeth narrowed her eyes as she accepted the tablet from D.

* * *

**Special thanks to reader LillyD11 for helping me with the French translations!**


	18. Update

"As much I hate to admit it, ma'am," D followed Elizabeth through the busy hallway, "what Caldwell said in there wasn't wrong. Many of the changes he implemented will help the day-to-day operations of the City run more efficiently."

"I was under the impression things were already going rather smoothly," Elizabeth glanced over to D.

"Smoothly, yes," D agreed, "But the changes Caldwell made will streamline things further, make things more efficient. Colonel Sheppard is a pilot; he's not exactly used to being in charge of large groups of people. While Major Lorne has been filling some of the gaps administrative-wise, he doesn't have much more experience than Sheppard."

"You think we should keep the changes Caldwell made?" Elizabeth asked cautiously.

"Not all of them, ma'am," D shrugged, "But there are several that should be given serious consideration."

"All right," Elizabeth sighed, "When Colonel Sheppard resumes his post, I'll go over the changes with him and we can decide which ones to keep."

"And in the meantime?" D questioned, "Will you be overriding any of Colonel Caldwell's changes? As leader of the expedition, you do have the authority to delay the implementation of-"

"Which one is it?" Elizabeth wondered.

"Ma'am?" D replied carefully.

"You wouldn't have reminded me that I can overrule Caldwell," Elizabeth said dryly, "unless you had something specific in mind that you didn't agree with. So which change did he implement that you think should be overruled?"

"The new security protocols," D spoke quietly, "He's rearranged the security personnel in an odd fashion."

"Odd how?" Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.

"He's taken personnel away from guarding critical areas of the City," D explained, "and reassigned them to exploration. While his way allows more protection for the science teams exploring Atlantis, it also weakens the City's defensive posture should any incidents occur. To an outsider like Caldwell, it probably looked like Sheppard was making a rookie mistake by being overly cautious when in reality Sheppard's decision was likely based on his past experiences within the City."

"How is that an odd decision?" Elizabeth questioned, "It sounds like Caldwell is doing what he thinks is best for the expedition."

"Or purposely taking personnel away from key areas," D countered, "weakening the City in preparation for a military coup."

"You don't really think Colonel Caldwell would do that, do you?" Elizabeth asked warily.

"I am having trouble remaining neutral when it comes to determining Caldwell's motives," D answered carefully, "As I've said before, I don't trust the man."

"You're a very suspicious person, D," Elizabeth shook her head.

"And you are very trusting, Elizabeth," D smiled wryly, "That's why you have me."

"_Dr. Weir_," Chuck's voice came over the radio, "_This is the control room_."

Elizabeth tapped her earpiece, "This is Dr. Weir, go ahead."

"_Major Lorne's team just checked in, ma'am,"_ Chuck informed her, "_They've located an iratus cave and are headed inside now_."

"Thank you, Chuck," Elizabeth acknowledged, "Keep me updated, please."

"_Yes, ma'am_," Chuck agreed.

D changed directions, taking Elizabeth's elbow to guide her as they continued down the hallway.

"Where are we going?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"I assumed," D released Elizabeth, "you'd want to inform Sheppard of the progress in finding a cure."

"Well, yes," Elizabeth said dryly, "But you told me I had to have a chaperone around dangerous men."

"I said 'potentially dangerous people'," D corrected, "Women can be just as dangerous, if not more so, than men. I'll go in with you and wait beside the door while you update him. You won't even notice I'm there."

"I'm sure you'll be discreet," Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"The nest is incredibly well protected," Beckett slumped down in the chair, "There are hundreds, maybe even thousands of them. I just don't think it's possible."

"So where does that leave us?" Elizabeth asked warily.

"Without the stem cells," Beckett looked up at Elizabeth sadly, "our plan is not promising."

Elizabeth hung her head at that, pressing her lips together silently.

"I could go, ma'am," D offered after a moment, "If I went alone, it's likely I would be able to-"

"No," Elizabeth shook her head, "We've already lost Walker and Stevens. I won't risk more lives."

"Dr. Weir," D spoke carefully, "Lt. Colonel Sheppard's life is substantially more valuable than mine. You are not ordering me to take this risk, I am volunteering."

"That's not true," Carson scowled.

"Yes, it is," D argued calmly, "Elizabeth hasn't given me any orders. I suggested the idea of going alone to the cave."

"He meant the part about Sheppard's life being more valuable than yours," Elizabeth explained softly, looking up at D.

"Aye," Carson nodded, "Every life is equally valuable."

D looked between the two of them curiously, "Sheppard is the Military Commander of this expedition. His experiences over the last year and a half give him practical insight as to how the Pegasus Galaxy operates. He has the highest concentration of the ATA gene and a natural ability to use Ancient tech. The City itself has blossomed for him, doing whatever he asks. Other than Specialist Dex, he is the foremost expert on the tactics and military capabilities of the Wraith. These things, among many others, make him incredibly difficult to replace. I am expendable, Colonel Sheppard is not."

"Is that what they told you?" Carson questioned angrily, "That you were expendable and could be replaced at any time?"

"Yes," D tilted her head to the side, "It upsets you when I say that. Why?"

"Because it's patently untrue," Carson declared.

"But it is true, Carson," D stated evenly, "There are many others that can do what I do, perhaps not as quickly and efficiently, but they get the job done just the same. Unless you are referring to my unique genetics, in which case I would remind you, you have access to all my medical records and samples of my DNA. With the advances in medicine and genetics in the last twenty years, it's very probable the experiments that led to my condition could be replicated easily."

"It's not about your bloody genetics," Carson insisted, "It's about the fact that you are a living, breathing human being. Every human life is valuable, no matter who the person is or what they do or what they contribute. Every life is precious and should be treated as such."

"You are a healer, Carson," D said carefully, "I am not. Our past experiences have given us two very different viewpoints. Human life has value, yes, but that value is measured differently for each person."

"Past experiences?" Carson gaped, "You mean when-"

"Both of you, stop," Elizabeth held up a hand to forestall any further argument, "I will not authorize any further trips to the planet, volunteers or not. The risk is too high, even for you, Dr. Vaughn."

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head.

"I'll tell Sheppard," Elizabeth looked down at her desk again, "He should know the mission failed."

"Respectfully, ma'am," D stepped forward, "with the rate at which Colonel Sheppard's condition is deteriorating…I think it would be better if I delivered the news alone."

"D," Elizabeth sighed.

"Elizabeth," D straightened, "Whether you believe it or not, _Sheppard periculosum est nunc_." [Latin: Sheppard is dangerous now.]

"Fine," Elizabeth conceded after a long pause, "Go."

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head once more as she left.

"It's too bad Dr. James is dead," Carson stood suddenly, "because I'd certainly like to give him a piece of my mind. That man, that _doctor_, and I use that term very loosely, was supposed to be her parent, her step-father. He should've protected her. Instead, he turned a beautiful child into someone who truly believes that she is nothing more than an expendable tool to be used by those in power. It's not right."

"She could probably do it, you know," Elizabeth responded quietly, lifting her head to stare at Carson sadly, "Dr. Vaughn wouldn't have volunteered to go if she hadn't already calculated the probable outcomes and determined the likelihood of her succeeding was high. If I were to let her go to the planet, there's a very good chance D would be able to retrieve the eggs you need to finish a cure for Sheppard."

"_Elizabeth_," Carson admonished, "You can't seriously be considering-"

"There is also a chance," Elizabeth continued, "however small, that I would be letting a young woman sacrifice herself on a fool's errand. D's belief that she is somehow unworthy, somehow less than others, is so deeply engrained in her psyche that merely telling her different will accomplish nothing. So, _yes_, she _could_ get the eggs and save Sheppard, but _no_, I _won't_ let her go because I will not, I cannot place one life above others. Because however much I want to save John, if I let her go the planet, if I start seeing her as something other than a normal human, as someone different who can be used because of what she is, I'd be no better than the people that created her – the ones who made her believe she is expendable. Actions speak louder than words, Carson."

"You're right," Carson's shoulders slumped forward, "It just infuriates me that in this day and age some people are still treated as less than others. It's not right."

"No, it's not," Elizabeth agreed, "But unfortunately, we can't go back and change the past. We can only learn from it, ensure that we don't make the same mistakes."

"Of course. I'm going to head back to the infirmary," Carson sighed, "Go back through my research, see if I missed something before. Maybe I can come up with another solution."

"Let me know if you need anything," Elizabeth nodded, "And keep me updated."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"I wouldn't go in there, ma'am," Baumann said cautiously.

"I'll be fine, Sergeant," D assured him, "If he comes out of the room, do not hesitate to stun him."

"Yes, ma'am," Baumann nodded and made eye contact guard standing on the other side of the door, who nodded as well.

Baumann swiped his hand across the control crystals and D stepped inside the dark room. The door slid shut behind her and she let her eyes adjust to the darkness before moving to the center of the room.

"Colonel Sheppard," D spoke evenly, "I have an update on your team's mission. They returned twenty minutes ago."

John appeared silently behind D. She turned to face him, calmly taking in his yellow eyes and the blue scaled skin now covering his neck, small ridges forming along his jawline.

"The nest was too well protected," D informed him, "The team was unable to retrieve the eggs. They did their best-"

"Best?" John questioned flatly.

"The bugs attacked-" D continued.

"Try again," John ordered.

"No," D responded.

"Why?" John asked.

"It's too dangerous," D answered.

"Then kill me now," John commanded.

"No," D repeated, "Dr. Weir-"

"It'd be better for all of us," John said.

"Dr. Weir will not allow-" D started again.

"Then try again," John moved closer.

"_No_," D insisted firmly, "Lt. Walker and Sgt. Stevens were killed. Dr. Weir will not risk more lives, even for you."

John surged forward, reaching his hand out to wrap around the front of D's throat. She brought a hand up, slamming it down hard on his forearm as she turned her body to the side to escape his grip. D tried to reach into her pants pocket but John surged forward again, smashing the side of D's face into the pillar behind them, one hand gripping her wrists together behind her back and the other tangled tightly in her hair above the low bun. He pushed her harder into the pillar and pressed against her, leaning forward to draw his nose up the side of her cheek as he inhaled deeply.

"You don't smell of fear," John whispered the words against her skin.

"Because I am not afraid of you," D responded calmly, "I know that you don't really want to hurt me. Release me."

"You smell different from the others," John pressed his nose to her cheek again, "You smell of…sea-salt and fresh air."

"Let me go, Sheppard," D spoke softly, "You don't want to do this."

John snarled angrily as he tightened his grip on her hair, pulling her head back and slamming it hard into the pillar. As D collapsed to the ground, John ran out of the room, knocking the guards down even as they fired their stunners at him.

D shook her head once as she stood unsteadily, walking out of the room to check on the guards. She saw them both laying on the floor and her hand went immediately up to her earpiece, "This is Dr. Vaughn. We have a security breach. Colonel Sheppard's quarters."

Baumann waved her offered hand away as he stood, "Stunners barely slowed him down."

"Your head, ma'am," the second guard gestured to the blood running down her face.

"It's fine," D insisted, "Are you injured?"

"We're fine," Baumann nodded, "Permission to go after the Colonel?"

"Yes, but don't engage him," D took off running, shouting over her shoulder, "Follow and observe only," she reached up to tap her earpiece again, "Dr. McKay-"

"_Yeah, I'm listening_," Rodney responded quickly, "_I'm already in the control room_."

"We need to locate-" D started.

"_I'm reconfiguring the biometric sensors now_," Rodney interrupted, "_I should be able to use them to search for Sheppard's altered DNA_."

"Good," D turned a corner and stepped into a transporter, "I'll be there in seventy-five seconds."


	19. Our Plan

D came sprinting into the control room, blood dripping down from her temple to stain the collar of her uniform jacket.

"Did you get the sensors adjusted?" D questioned.

"Yeah," Rodney nodded without looking away from his console, "I'm bringing them up now."

"D," Elizabeth grabbed her arm as she walked past, "You're bleeding."

"Sheppard knocked my head into a pillar in his room," D claimed as she pulled away, moving to stand by Rodney, "I'll clean it up after."

"I've got a lock on him," Rodney announced.

"That can't be him," Caldwell insisted, "He's moving too fast."

"That's him," Ronon stated calmly.

"All right," Caldwell turned around to the waiting Marines, "Four teams. Surround him and close in. I want him stopped. And gentlemen, use whatever level force you deem necessary. Move out."

"Belay that order," D commanded, "Stay here until I figure this out."

The Marines froze at the forceful tone of D's voice, looking between her and Caldwell cautiously.

"Excuse me?" Caldwell asked icily.

"Your way won't work," D studied the screen closely, "Be quiet and let me think for a minute."

"I don't know who you think you are-" Caldwell began.

"I'm the one who's going to keep Marines from getting killed because you've no idea what you're up against," D spun around to face Elizabeth, "Do you remember the promise I made you, Elizabeth?"

"I do," Elizabeth agreed hesitantly.

"Let me keep it," D held her gaze.

Elizabeth looked between Caldwell's furious expression and D's calm stare before she nodded once, "Do what you need to do to retrieve Colonel Sheppard, Dr. Vaughn."

"Thank you, ma'am," D inclined her head and turned back to the large screen.

"This is a military situation," Caldwell argued irately, "I am the highest ranking-"

"Caldwell," D growled, "Stop. _Talking_."

"I gave you orders," Caldwell turned back to the Marines, "Follow them or you'll be court-martialed."

"Let me put this in terms you can understand, Colonel," D stepped around Rodney to face Caldwell, hands on her hips, "_No one_ in this room will listen to your orders instead of Dr. Weir's, no matter what you threaten them with, especially when it comes to the safety and welfare of Lt. Colonel Sheppard. Dr. Weir has put me in charge of capturing and containing Colonel Sheppard, which means those men are now waiting for my orders. To put it bluntly, they like Elizabeth more than they like you and they respect John more than they respect you. If you want to file a formal complaint when this situation is resolved, I'd be happy to assist you in finding the correct forms and provide you with a list of the personnel involved. Until then, Steven," the irritation in D's voice finally leaked through as she continued harshly, "I'd advise you to _SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME THINK_!"

Stunned silence fell over the room as D finished. She shoved her bangs further to the side impatiently, unconsciously swiping a hand through the blood that had been dripping close to her eye. She looked down at the red smear across her fingers, then closed her eyes and took a single deep breath. She exhaled slowly, then opened her eyes and turned to look at Ronon curiously.

"You hunt, Specialist?" D wondered.

"Yes, ma'am," Ronon nodded and straightened to attention, "Since I was old enough to hold a weapon."

"We're not tracking a person right now," D tilted her head to the side, "We're hunting an animal. A lone animal that thinks it's been threatened. Which means…"

"He'll look for pack," Ronon looked thoughtful, "Use bait to flush him out…then trap him."

"Agreed," D wiped the blood from her hand on her pants absently as she turned back to Rodney's console, "Open area?"

"Yeah," Ronon nodded and moved closer to look over D's shoulder at the map on the screen, "With Teyla and a team-"

"-of Marines. Yeah, that should work. Use the stunners to move him, since they don't work anyway. Rodney, reroute all the transporters to these two spots," D gestured to the screen as she spoke, "and seal off all access to that section, except these two corridors, here and here. Chuck, we need teams of four in each of the access points to this section, armed with stunners and P90s. Their main objective is containment. Tell them to make sure Sheppard doesn't get past them, no matter what. Teyla, you're in the center – this big empty space here – with Williams' team. Sheppard will come after you, so you'll need to push him back towards Ronon, who will be-"

"-there," Ronon pointed to the screen.

"Your objective is Sheppard's capture," D nodded, "Subdue him as quickly as possible and call the medics to retrieve him."

"Are there any civilians in that area?" Elizabeth questioned, "Is anyone else in danger?"

"Only life-signs left in that section are the space Marines. Everyone else is already moving to designated safe areas," Rodney responded quickly, already following D's instructions, "Chuck, lock down the Stargate."

"Doing it now, sir," Chuck was already tapping the console in front of him, "The requested security teams are moving into place. Additional security personnel are moving into all critical areas."

"Teyla, take this," D pulled a silver syringe from her back pocket, "I didn't get a chance to use this before he escaped. It's loaded with enough tranquilizer to take him down, even with his altered DNA, but make sure he gets at least three-quarters of it or he won't stay out more than a couple minutes. He's fast – a lot faster than normal – and he's strong. Don't take any chances. If he gets too close…"

"I will not hesitate," Teyla accepted the needle.

"Even if he doesn't get close enough," D instructed, "inject the entire dose directly into his carotid artery after-"

"I knock him out," Ronon grinned as he turned to leave.

"What he said," D rolled her eyes at Ronon's retreating back, "It'll keep Sheppard out until Beckett's team gets there."

"Go," Elizabeth ordered and the room began to clear, "And be careful."

"Dr. Beckett," D tapped her earpiece, "This is Dr. Vaughn."

"_Beckett here_," Carson answered swiftly, "_Did you locate the Colonel already? Do you need me somewhere_?"

"Working on that now. He should be in custody in ten minutes or less," D informed him, "In the meantime…the section in the database on the iratus bug, did it say anything about pheromones? I only skimmed it, I didn't read it thoroughly."

"_I think I remember reading something about that_," Carson replied easily, "_Why do you ask_?"

"Colonel Sheppard sniffed me," D said calmly.

"He sniffed you?" Rodney looked away from the console to eye D strangely, "What do you mean he 'sniffed you'?"

"He said," D gave Rodney a harsh look to silence him, "that I didn't smell of fear. That I smelled different from the others, like sea-salt and fresh air. The combination made him angry enough to overcome his human instinct to protect and he smashed my face into the wall so he could escape."

"_I'll look into it immediately_," Carson agreed, "_If his reaction is pheromone based as you think, it might be the solution we're looking for. Come to the infirmary as soon as you can so I can look at your head_."

"Call Dr. Weir if you find anything before we reacquire the Colonel," D tapped her earpiece off.

"Sheppard _sniffed_ you?" Rodney repeated incredulously.

"Rodney," Elizabeth warned, "Concentrate please."

"Right," Rodney snarked as he looked back at the screen, "Feral Colonel on the loose. Sheppard could be sniffing innocent civilians as we speak – better not waste any time."

D snorted in amusement, "I'm telling Sheppard you said that when he's back to normal."

"That's your brilliant plan?" Caldwell crossed his arms across his chest, "Use Teyla as bait and tranq him?"

"No, and it's not just my plan," D clenched her jaw as she answered, "_Our_ plan is to draw Sheppard into a wide open space using the only person in the City that has similar DNA, which for complicated biochemical reasons to complex for your brain to comprehend, he will actively seek out in his animalistic state. Then Ms. Emmagan, in conjunction with Sgt. Williams' team, will use their mostly ineffective stun weapons to herd him toward the area where Specialist Dex is waiting with what is possibly the only weapon in the entire City that will subdue Sheppard without causing him harm. The tranquilizer is a merely a back-up weapon for Ms. Emmagan should the Colonel get close enough and a guarantee that he will stay unconscious until Dr. Beckett's team can take him to the infirmary."

"And if your plan doesn't work?" Caldwell snapped, "Then what?"

"Then Colonel Sheppard is trapped in a small section of the City," D turned to give him an annoyed sneer, "with thirteen people armed with submachine guns and one person who has Wraith-tested hand-to-hand combat skills and an advanced energy-based weapon. If Sheppard _somehow_ manages to make it past all of them _and_ has the cognitive abilities to override the security protocols McKay has instituted, the Stargate has been locked down and there are additional security teams moving to all critical points within the City, including the jumper bay, preventing the Colonel from escaping that way. All security personnel have standing orders to subdue any and all threats with the minimum level of force necessary. They also have orders to use lethal levels of force should their lives, the lives of civilian personnel, or any critical equipment be endangered. Should he make it past the additional personnel, _again_ overriding the security lock-outs in place to make it all the way to the main control room, Sgt. Campbell knows to remove and destroy the control crystal in the DHD to prevent any chance of Sheppard reaching Earth. At that point, Sheppard will be stranded in a floating City, surrounded by hundreds of kilometers of salt water, something we know the iratus bug hates. In the short amount of time I was allowed to concentrate fully on the problem at hand, I calculated and dismissed close to a thousand scenarios before finally choosing the one that had the best chance of succeeding. I used the resources at hand - Ronon's past military and hunting expertise, Rodney's technical and engineering knowledge, Teyla's unique DNA and grace under pressure - to implement a course of action, including several back-ups plans should the primary one fail. You'll be hard-pressed to find anything that I haven't already taken into account. Believe it or not, Colonel, the people stationed here are extremely capable and they do know what they're doing."

"It's not _them_ I'm concerned with," Caldwell said coolly.

"I see. It's just me you have a problem with then," D smiled dangerously, "In that case, I'd like to take this opportunity to inform you that I-"

"Dr. Vaughn has my full confidence," Elizabeth stepped forward determinedly, "as does every other person of expedition. Each and every one of them, both civilian and military, were chosen with great care. If you have a problem with the way things are being done here, I suggest you take it up with the IOA next time you're on Earth, Colonel."

"Believe me," Caldwell glared at the two women standing in front of him, "I will."

"He's in the same section as Teyla," Rodney announced, "I'm locking down the last two transporters and all remaining access routes. Sheppard's trapped in that section now."

"Can you bring up the security feeds?" Elizabeth moved to Rodney's other side.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"I put him in a medically induced coma for now," Carson gently cleaned the dried blood from the side of D's face, "I was afraid he'd break through the restraints."

"That's a good idea, Doctor," Caldwell agreed.

"So what now?" Elizabeth wondered.

"Did you get a chance to look up that information?" D turned to look up at Carson.

"Hold still, dear," Carson moved D's head back the other way, "I did look through the iratus bug data again and you were right about the pheromones."

"What does that mean?" Caldwell questioned.

"When we were in the cave," Carson finished cleaning the blood away and started probing the edges of D's wound gently, "those bugs knew we didn't belong there, so they didn't really fancy us getting close to their nest."

"If Carson's team can artificially create the pheromone exuded by the adult iratus bug," D continued, holding her head still this time, "it might be able to confuse the bugs in the cave long enough to allow a small team to retrieve the eggs."

"Except I don't think we have enough time to produce a synthetic version of the pheromone," Carson frowned, "Fortunately, the fact that Sheppard's mutation has progressed as far as it has may be his salvation."

"Explain that," Elizabeth commanded.

"I checked when he was brought in and it looks like his sweat glands are actually producing trace amounts of their signature pheromone," Carson explained, "He's the only person on this base that wouldn't need the artificial pheromone. He could walk right in that cave and those bugs wouldn't pay him any mind."

"Dr. Beckett," D cautioned, "Colonel Sheppard is not thinking clearly right now. I'm not sure that's the best idea."

"As much as I hate to say it," Caldwell sneered at D, "I agree with Dr. Vaughn."

"_Licetne hit eum_?" D asked sweetly. [Latin: Can I hit him?]

"_Non vox iam_," Elizabeth shook her head, "What are you suggesting, Dr. Beckett?" [Latin: Not right now.]

"He stopped taking the inhibitor we were administering. It was able to keep him lucid," Carson replied, "Although the effectiveness was wearing off, I believe if we give him another massive dose, he may be clear-headed enough to complete the mission before we lose him completely."

"Giving Sheppard that much viral inhibitor all at once could potentially kill him," D pointed out.

"Yes, it's a definite possibility," Carson agreed, "Even if I knew it was for certain, I'd be tempted to offer him one last hour of lucidity."

All three of them turned to look at Elizabeth.

"Do it," Elizabeth straightened.

"I'll get ready to leave immediately," D stood from the gurney, "I'd like to take Ronon with me, as an extra precaution."

"No, you're staying here," Carson grabbed her arm to stop her, "you've a concussion at the very least. You're going straight into the scanner to make sure the Colonel didn't crack that thick skull of yours, then I'm going to suture this wound and check the bruising on your wrists."

"It's only a grade one concussion, Carson," D protested, "and small linear skull fracture. I don't need-"

"I'll contact Sheppard's team, D," Elizabeth interrupted, laying her hand on D's other arm, "They'll escort him to the cave. Dr. Beckett can go with to monitor the Colonel's condition. Marie can take care of your injuries here."

"But what about…?" D scowled slightly.

"I'll keep Major Lorne with me," Elizabeth smiled, "Satisfied?"

"Not really," D grumbled, "But if you insist, ma'am."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"It's not gonna happen overnight," Carson came out from behind the privacy screens where John was resting, "You can bet on that, but the transformation has begun to reverse itself."

"So eventually he'll be back in uniform?" Caldwell questioned.

"Eventually," Carson nodded in agreement.

"Well done, Carson," Rodney snarked, "for once again elevating medicine to actual science."

"Well, thank you, Rodney," Carson mostly ignored the other man's sarcasm.

"We'll all finally be able to get some sleep," Elizabeth said.

"Speaking of sleep," Carson looked to Elizabeth, "Dr. Vaughn is off-duty for the next two days. She ended up with a minor skull fracture, a mild concussion, and ten stitches for the laceration above her temple. I'm keeping her here in the infirmary to make sure she actually gets some rest, then she's on restricted duty for the next week. I've already had to take her tablet away twice and Marie stopped her from escaping again half an hour ago, so if she shows up in your office…"

"Send her back here and call you, got it," Elizabeth shook her head, "Please keep me updated on both of them."

"Aye," Carson nodded as Elizabeth turned to leave.

"If and when Colonel Sheppard resumes his duties," Caldwell followed Elizabeth out of the infirmary, "I hope he'll consider some of the changes that I've made."

"_When_ he does," Elizabeth replied, "that'll be up to him."

"As to the matter of Dr. Vaughn's insubordination," Caldwell looked back to the infirmary thoughtfully, "I'm willing to attribute her inappropriate behavior to the injuries she received from Colonel Sheppard…this time."

"That's very understanding of you, Colonel," Elizabeth spoke diplomatically, "Will you be leaving soon or are you sticking around a bit longer?"

"Daedalus will head back to Earth in less than a week," Caldwell answered, "I'll be out of your hair in no time."

"We'll try to manage without you until you get back," Elizabeth turned to head up the stairs.

"Despite what you might think of my intentions, Doctor Weir," Caldwell called after her, "I'm not your enemy."

Elizabeth turned back around to smile confidently at Caldwell, "Believe me, Colonel, you don't want to be."


	20. Efficacy

"Relax," D placed a steady hand between Elizabeth's shoulder blades, "You're tensing up."

"I don't see why this is necessary," Elizabeth protested.

"I want you to be able to protect yourself," D reminded her, "in case another incident comes up and I'm not able to be there."

"Is this because I let Carson keep you on restricted duty?" Elizabeth asked dryly.

"Yes, ma'am," D smirked, "Now…take a deep breath and concentrate."

Elizabeth inhaled and exhaled several times, feeling her muscles slowly relax.

"Good, hold on to that relaxed feeling," D said quietly, dropping her hand and stepping back, "Remember, squeeze don't pull."

Elizabeth squeezed the trigger of the gun she held, firing several shots into the paper target at the other end of the room.

"Stop," D ordered and Elizabeth paused, "You're holding too tight with your dominant hand. It's making you pull your shots to the right," D moved forward, adjusting Elizabeth's grip carefully, "Keep your hand like that and finish the clip."

Elizabeth emptied the remainder of the clip into the target, a satisfied look coming across her face as she saw the placement of the holes when she finished.

"Better," D smiled as Elizabeth lowered the gun to her side.

"I still don't like guns," Elizabeth insisted.

"Neither do I," D shrugged and went to replace the used target with a new one, "That doesn't mean you shouldn't learn how to use them properly. Especially in a place like this."

"You don't like guns?" Elizabeth asked curiously when D came back.

"For very different reasons than you, I'm sure," D picked up a full clip from a nearby shelf and held it out to Elizabeth, "Again."

"Why don't you like them?" Elizabeth reloaded the gun awkwardly, her movements still unsure.

"Guns are imprecise and somewhat unreliable," D accepted the empty clip from Elizabeth and move to put it on the shelf with the others, "I prefer close-range weapons so I know exactly how much damage I'm doing to a target. Most people use them incorrectly anyway."

"How do you use a gun incorrectly?" Elizabeth wondered, "The barrel goes towards the person you're trying to hurt and you squeeze – not pull – the trigger."

D raised an eyebrow and came closer to Elizabeth, stopping just outside arm's reach, "Point the gun at me, ma'am."

"What?" Elizabeth questioned warily, "Why?"

"Do it, please," D smiled patiently.

Elizabeth looked down at the weapon in her hands, remembering to make sure the safety was on before she raised the gun, aiming it towards D in a careful two-handed grip.

D began quietly, "The mistake most people make…" she slapped Elizabeth in the wrist with one hand, twisting the gun from her hands and ejecting the clip onto the floor with the other. D dropped the gun to the floor after the clip, moving forward into Elizabeth's space and pulling her head back with a firm grip on her hair as she brought a small curved knife up to Elizabeth's throat, "…is they get too close. Guns have a very specific range of efficacy. They are a long distance weapon. Get too close and you lose your advantage."

"Okay," Elizabeth held very still.

"Also, if you remember nothing else today, remember this," D held Elizabeth's eyes, "A gun is a weapon made for only one purpose – death. It's not for threats, it's not for hurting someone – it is made to end life. Don't ever point a gun at someone you aren't willing to kill."

"I understand," Elizabeth replied cautiously, "Does the same go for holding knives to someone's throat?"

"Usually," D smiled as she released the taller woman and stepped back, "But not in this case and definitely not with this knife."

Elizabeth rubbed a hand over her throat, "How so?"

D uncurled her fist, holding out the knife for Elizabeth to inspect. It was one solid piece of silver steel, only slightly larger than D's open hand, and curved to fit snugly into her palm. A black cord was wrapped around the small hilt, just below the ring where D's index finger was still holding it. The short, curved blade was dull on both sides.

"It's a called a karambit," D explained, "This particular model is used for training, so both edges have been dulled to keep from hurting your partner or yourself. It can also be a useful tool for controlling an opponent when you don't want to hurt them. It's small, easily concealed, and with a sharp blade, extremely dangerous. This is my weapon of choice. It's just as deadly as nine-nil, but it never runs out of ammo, and it's easier to hide so I can carry one, or more, without most people noticing."

"If neither of us like guns," Elizabeth sighed and bent to pick up the pieces of her discarded gun from the floor, "Then why are you teaching me to shoot? Why aren't you teaching me some sort of self-defense instead?"

"We're going to the gym next week. I intend to teach you both," D answered easily, slipping the knife back into place behind her back, "but we're starting with this because I'd prefer you keep your distance from people who intend to hurt you. Three more clips, ma'am."

"Slave driver," Elizabeth turned to face the paper targets again.

"If you hit the center circle," D smiled, "at least fifty percent of the time, I'll make sure you get first dibs on the new coffee flavors on the next supply run."

"Bribery won't get you anywhere, D," Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"There's french vanilla, Elizabeth," D stepped behind Elizabeth's right shoulder, "and hazelnut."

Elizabeth laughed warmly, "All right, bribery might get you somewhere."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Hello, Colonel," D set the last box of bullets back in the cabinet and shut the door, engaging the lock, "Something I can help you with?"

"How'd you know it was me?" John stepped into the room.

"G-3, B flat-3, D flat-4," D turned to face him, "Something bothering you today, Colonel?"

A moment of confusion came over John's face, "What?"

"Atlantis," D pointed a finger at the ceiling, "Normally, she sings G-3, B-3, D-4, G-4 for you."

"What?" John repeated.

"I have perfect pitch," D explained patiently, "The City sings different things for different people, sometimes even changes her song according to their moods. You're normally several different variations of a G major chord, but when you're upset or nervous about something, you're variations of a G diminished chord. Rodney is usually a B major seventh chord with a fifth – B dominant seventh with a fifth if he's been in the lab all day. Most days Elizabeth is a C suspended chord followed by a C suspended second chord."

"I…" John looked at D oddly, "Okay?"

"It's not important, just an observation," D shook her head and started to leave, "I'm glad to see you back in uniform, Colonel."

"Wait," John stepped in front of the door to stop her from leaving, "I came in here to talk to you."

"We did talk," D raised an eyebrow, "Unless you had a different topic of conversation in mind."

"I did," John drawled, "but then you started auditioning for a bingo caller and I got distracted."

D tilted her head to the side, "A bingo caller?"

"You know," John gestured to her, "G3, B3, and so on."

"Those are names for notes on a piano," D clarified, "They have nothing to do with bingo."

"I know," John replied carefully, "It was supposed to be a joke."

D blinked at him twice before smiling politely and trying to step around him, "Of course. Have a good evening."

"Are you purposely deflecting so you don't have to talk to me?" John asked idly.

"Again, Colonel," D looked up at him, "I am already talking to you. You'll have to be more specific."

"I wanted to apologize," John scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, "for…you know…"

"For slamming me into a pillar?" D suggested, "For smelling me like a fresh-cut flower?"

"Both," John admitted uncomfortably.

"You weren't thinking rationally," D responded easily, "No harm was done."

"Beckett said you ended up with a cracked skull," John pointed briefly to the jagged white line still on her temple, "and a bunch of stitches."

"I heal fast. It won't even leave a permanent scar," D shrugged, "Honestly, I'm more annoyed that Carson put me on light duty for an entire week."

"I've already apologized to everyone else, including Elizabeth and Teyla," John winced slightly at the second name, "but you're a little hard to pin down."

"Just follow the chords, Colonel," D smiled faintly as she stepped past him, "G flat minor ninth, followed by G flat diminished seventh."

"About that other thing," John's steady voice stopped her, "The part where you threatened to shoot me in the head with Baumann's nine-mil."

D turned back to John with a practiced neutral expression, "What about it, Colonel?"

"I think we need to talk about what you're really doing here, Doctor," John straightened.

"Here in this room?" D gave him a playful, crooked smile, "Here in the City? Here in Pegasus? Here in the universe? Perhaps you mean '_here'_ in a more general 'meaning of life' sense. There are so many choices, Colonel, I'm not sure which one to address first."

"What exactly did you mean," John asked carefully, "when you said you were here to make sure Dr. Weir stays the leader of Atlantis and that you would deal with any threats against her?"

"I said exactly what I meant," D responded smoothly, "and if you'll remember the next thing I told you, you'll know that I'm not really interested in discussing the subject with you any further."

"If Elizabeth is in some kind of trouble, I need to know about it," John insisted, "I can't protect her if I don't know what's going on."

D moved closer, the smile shifting from playful to predatory as her voice dropped to a purr, "Worried about her, John?"

"Yeah," John looked down at D uneasily as she pressed her body against his, "Of course I'm worried about her."

"Because she's your _friend_?" D trailed her hand slowly down John's right arm, "Or is your concern because Elizabeth is _more_ than just a _friend_ to you?"

"That's none of your business," the tips of John's ears pinked.

D pulled John's gun from the holster at his thigh, raised her arm out to the side, and fired three quick shots, all without looking away from his face.

"It's none of your business what I'm doing here," D slipped the gun silently back into his holster, the smile still firmly in place, "If and when you need to know any different, it will be up to Dr. Weir to tell you," D put a hand on the side of John's stunned face, turning his head towards the paper targets, "Though I doubt it will become necessary. It's not your job to protect her, Colonel Sheppard."

John narrowed his eyes as he saw three neat holes, one in each target hanging across the room. All three holes were in the exact spot that would've been between the eyes if the targets were people instead of paper. He turned back to D as she dropped her hand and stepped back. Her smile was gone and the neutral expression slipped back into place as she clasped her hands behind her back.

"Where did General O'Neill find you exactly?" John asked suspiciously.

"In his bedroom," D replied seriously.

"Elizabeth-_Dr. Weir_," John corrected himself, "said that some dangerous people were looking for you, is that true?"

"No, she didn't," D argued.

"Yes, she did," John insisted, "After you flipped out on McKay."

"Did Elizabeth come right out and say someone was looking for me?" D questioned, "Or did you ask her a question and she gave you exactly the answer you were looking for?"

"She…" John stopped, his lips coming together in a firm line.

"How did you know where I was, Colonel Sheppard?" D asked curiously.

"The City-" John started.

"Wouldn't tell you where I was without my permission," D tilted her head to the side, studying John intently, "You said you apologized to everyone else, including Elizabeth and Teyla, but you were only released this morning. My guess is you apologized to Ms. Emmagan first, since your sense of decency would demand it, considering what happened between the two of you."

"How did you-" John began again.

"You wouldn't have worn your uniform for that apology, however," D continued, ignoring his attempted interruption, "because the incident was personal. You also said 'everyone else', so I would assume that included Ronon and the Marines that you attacked. You changed into your uniform for that because you wanted all of them, especially Ronon, to see that you're still a capable commander. You and Rodney didn't have any direct confrontations, but you would've apologized to him next because he's your best friend. He's the one that told you what happened between Caldwell, Elizabeth, and me in the control room. Probably went on for at least half an hour about how we were all yelling at each other, which wasn't true, and how Elizabeth backed me instead of Caldwell, which was true. While the first part you would've easily dismissed as Rodney exaggerating or tempers running hot during a tense situation, the second part would've piqued your curiosity. Elizabeth is not the type to make decisions regarding the welfare of the City recklessly, so there must have been a very good reason she chose to let me handle the situation. Elizabeth's been with me all day, however, and you wouldn't want to ask her about it while I was around. So you went to talk to Carson, knowing that he's such a horrible gossip that he could give you at least some of the information you were looking for. That's when he told you that everything in the control room happened while I was concussed and bleeding, with a crack in my skull. More pieces for the puzzle in your mind. Elizabeth left here an hour ago, but I stayed to practice and to clean up," a slow smile began spreading across D's face, "_That's_ what you asked the City. Not where I was, but when Elizabeth was alone. An hour gave you just enough time to apologize to her and ask her questions about what happened. Knowing Elizabeth, she gave you the watered down version, thinking that would satisfy you without giving too much away. You were still curious after talking to her, but you couldn't come right out and ask her about me without telling her what I said to you that day. Instead, you asked her where I was so you could come apologize to me, hoping you'd be able to charm or intimidate more information out of me. _Quam teneant_. You may play dumb, Colonel, but you're actually quite clever." [Latin: How fascinating.]

"Thanks," John crossed his arms across his chest, "You done?"

"Not quite," D took half a step forward, her expression hardening, "I'm not like the rest of the people here, Sheppard. You want to play the pretty flyboy who's dumb yet charming for them, that's fine, but don't do it with me. I know better now."

"Fine," John dropped his arms and took his own step forward, "But that goes both ways. You want to play the harmless sex kitten with an IQ to rival McKay's for everyone else, go ahead. Don't do it with me. I know better now."

"My IQ does rival McKay's," D smirked, "but then, yours is nothing to scoff at either. Do we understand each other, Colonel?"

"We do, Doctor," John nodded curtly, "But I still want answers."

"I'm not going to give you any more information about me," D tilted her chin up.

"Not about you," John clarified, "About Elizabeth."

"I've made it clear that Dr. Weir doesn't need your protection, Colonel," D narrowed her eyes, "Why are you still concerned for her?"

"Because Elizabeth is…" John faltered, "She's…"

"_Suspiravitque ut vos quoque. Alio tempore fuisset in quæ Regina_," D rolled her eyes, "You can ask your questions, Sheppard, but I can't guarantee I'll answer them." [Latin: She got to you too. She would have been Queen in another time.]

"Is Elizabeth in danger here?" John asked carefully.

"She lives in an alien City that's at the center of a war with an alien species that feed on humans," D replied flippantly, "I'm going to go with yes on that one."

"Did O'Neill assign you to Atlantis to protect her?" John questioned.

"I won't answer that," D shook her head.

John clenched his fists at his sides, "Can you tell me if there are people on Earth after Elizabeth?"

"No," D answered.

"No, they're not after her," John's jaw tightened, "or no, you can't tell me?"

"No, I can't tell you," D paused, evaluating John's carefully contained frustration before she continued tentatively, "But _hypothetically_, some very powerful people could want Dr. Weir out of the way so someone else could take her position as leader of the Atlantis expedition. These powerful people might want someone in charge who was more open to their requests, someone more willing to follow orders, someone less…stubborn. If such a hypothetical situation were to occur, General O'Neill would be opposed to the wrong people getting their hands on advanced technology and might implement a rather unconventional solution to the problem."

"Would O'Neill's solution-" John started.

"_Hypothetical solution_," D interjected.

"-hypothetical solution," John continued easily, "involve sending a socially awkward and slightly bizarre genius who appears to be extremely proficient with firearms to Atlantis as Dr. Weir's bodyguard?"

"I'm not biz-" D scowled and huffed out a sigh, "Hypothetically, Jack sometimes comes up with some ridiculous ideas that involve assigning an intelligent person with unpracticed social skills as a bodyguard to a woman who thinks every problem can be solved by talking it out."

"Hypothetically," John smirked.

"Right," D nodded.

"Why are you telling me all this?" John's expression turned serious, "Hypothetically."

"Elizabeth trusts you," D held John's stare, "There has to be a reason for that. Since I am still undecided, I'm choosing to go with her judgment."

"Thanks," John shoved his hands in his pockets, "for almost telling me."

"I'd appreciate it," D smiled politely, "if you didn't speak with anyone else about this hypothetical situation. I'm still in the process of determining who can be trusted."

"What hypothetical situation?" John smirked, "All I remember is a conversation about bingo."

"Yeah," D muttered under her breath, "_Я странно один_." [Russian: I'm the strange one.]

"Are you aware you mumble in Russian when you're annoyed?" John drawled lazily.

"One of my instructors was former KGB," D shrugged, "I probably picked it up from him. He was pretty cranky."

"Right," John looked at D oddly again, "Cranky former KGB instructor. I'm not even going to ask."

* * *

**Efficacy: the ability to produce a desired or intended result.**

* * *

**D has the same opinion about guns as Eliot Spencer from 'Leverage' - which is a totally awesome show and you should totally go watch it. **


	21. Fascinating Work

John moved in front of D as she tried to leave again.

"Sheppard," D sighed and looked up at him, "I have other things to do this evening besides talk to you. Is this going to take much longer?"

"Just to clarify," John said uneasily, "I wasn't using the apology to get information from you."

"Weren't you?" D asked coolly, "I find that difficult to believe, considering you haven't yet apologized."

"Yes, I did," John protested.

"No, you didn't. Your exact words were 'I wanted to apologize for…you know…'" D quoted in a near-perfect imitation of John's earlier voice, "I remember everything since I was three years old, Sheppard. I can't recall a single incident of you actually apologizing to me."

"Are you really going to make me say the words?" John scowled slightly.

"But, John," D blinked innocently, "How else will I know you really mean it?"

"Is this because I called you bizarre?" John asked warily.

"Yes," D smiled widely, "and I believe your exact words were-"

"I'm sorry," John interrupted, "for hurting you."

"And?" D prompted.

John winced, "And for…sniffing you."

"Now was that so bad, Sheppard?" D smirked.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side, Vaughn," John rolled his eyes.

"Elizabeth says I've developed a vindictive streak," D gave John a calculated look, "If you really want me to believe your apology, you could talk to her about this idea she has that I need to participate in the City's social activities. She's somehow gotten the impression that I work too much and that I need to 'have more fun', as she put it. I keep trying to tell her that working is fun for me, but maybe if you explain it to her, she'll stop pestering me about it."

"Beckett also said," John cocked his head to the side, "that you took my place as his most difficult patient. Something about taking your tablet away over a dozen times. Also something about your escape attempts numbering in the double digits in the two days you were there."

"Carson is a damn nag," D sulked, "I was still perfectly capable of getting work done while I was trapped in that stupid infirmary. It's not like I got shot or stabbed in a vital organ or anything remotely serious. It was a minor concussion."

"I think Elizabeth might be right," John smirked, "You need to do something besides work."

D put her hands on her hips and glared up at John, "You are not a helpful person, Sheppard."

"Shouldn't have just accepted my first apology," John drawled, "How about a compromise, Vaughn?"

"I'm listening," D raised an eyebrow at him.

"A small group of us get together twice a week to watch movies," John explained, "We take turns picking the movie and there's even popcorn and beer now that the Daedalus is making regular supply runs."

"I wouldn't want to intrude," D shook her head.

"It's not an intrusion if you're invited," John pointed out.

"How small a group?" D asked cautiously.

"No one you don't already know," John responded, "McKay, Teyla, and Ronon are almost always there. Zelenka, Beckett, and Miko sometimes show up if they're not busy. Even Elizabeth's stopped by a couple times. If you come to our movie night this week, Elizabeth can't complain that you're always working and you don't have to be around big groups of people."

D narrowed her eyes at John, "Are you inviting me because you like to annoy Rodney and you figure the two of us will end up arguing?"

"If I say yes," John grinned, "are you still going to show up?"

"If you say no," D returned his grin, "I'm going to try Dr. Esposito's salsa dancing class instead."

*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"That," Rodney pointed to the screen proudly, "is the signature of an Ancient ship called the Aurora. With the ZedPM now powering the city, we've been reactivating dormant systems. That one tracked the location of Ancient ships during the war."

"A warship?" John looked up at Rodney happily.

"See, look at his eyes all lighting up again," Rodney rolled his eyes, "It's Pavlovian."

"Not just him that's excited," D smothered a smile with her hand, "G major ninth with a fifth and B ninth."

"Bingo," John snorted.

"Do you mind?" Rodney scowled at them, "This is important."

"It's a fascinating discovery, Dr. McKay," D dropped her hand, neutral expression in place again.

"I cross-checked the logs," Rodney turned back to the screen, "They were on a reconnaissance mission. When we activated the ZedPM, the city must have sent out some kind of an automated subspace beacon recalling ships back to Atlantis."

"How long before it gets here?" Elizabeth wondered.

"Well, given that it's at the edge of the Pegasus galaxy," Rodney pretended to count on his fingers, "let me see...carry the four...forty-two million years. Should we go wait on the porch?"

"So we take a Jumper through the nearest Stargate," John suggested, "check it out."

"Clever," Rodney smirked, "but wrong."

"There are no Stargates in that particular region of space," D studied the screen behind Rodney, "The closest gate is…about three hundred twelve hours by jumper."

"Wait, let me guess," Rodney snarked, "You memorized the entire Pegasus galaxy because it's your job."

"Don't be ridiculous, Rodney," D arched an eyebrow, "I don't think even I could memorize an entire galaxy."

"Oh," Rodney deflated slightly, "Then how did you…?"

"I memorized the addresses of the planets with Stargates on or around them," D clarified, "I calculated the distance between the Aurora's relative position in space and the nearest planet with a gate. Then, taking into account the average speed of the jumpers, I calculated the time it would take to traverse that distance. Three hundred twelve hours is only an estimate, of course, not an exact time."

"If it's too far out to go by jumper," Elizabeth spoke quickly to hold off the brewing argument from Rodney, "That leaves us only one way to get there."

"Did I say three hundred twelve hours?" D smiled politely, "I must've miscalculated. Quelle idiote je fais. I meant twelve hours. That's not an unreasonable amount of time to spend in a jumper." [French: How silly of me.]

"Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth cautioned.

"Dr. Weir," D responded in the same tone.

"Allons-nous vraiment avoir cette conversation à chaque fois?" Elizabeth sighed. [French: Are we really going to have this conversation every time?]

"Mon opinion de cet homme n'a pas change," D insisted, "Surtout après ce qui s'est passé." [French: My opinion of the man has not changed.] [French: Especially after what happened.]

"Rien ne s'est passé," Elizabeth argued, "Il a dit qu'il ne porterait pas plainte contre vous." [French: Nothing happened.] [French: He said he wouldn't press charges against you.]

"Cela le rend encore plus suspect à mes yeux," D shook her head, "On ne devrait pas lui faire confiance pour quelque chose de cette importance." [French: That only makes me more suspicious of him.] [French: He should not be trusted with something this important.]

"Il ne s'occupe que du transport," Elizabeth replied calmly, "Que pourrait-il faire?" [French: He's only providing transportation.] [French: What could he do?]

"Voulez-vous la liste alphabétique ou chronologique?" D retorted blandly. [French: Would you like the list alphabetically or chronologically?]

"J'envoie l'équipe de Sheppard pour vérifier le vaisseau," Elizabeth offered, "Vous pouvez aller avec eux, garder un œil sur Caldwell, si cela peut vous rassurer." [French: I'm sending Sheppard's team to check out the ship.] [French: You can go with them, keep an eye on Caldwell, if it will make you feel better.]

D gave Elizabeth a flat stare, "Я бы предпочитала выдолбить мои собственные глаза ржавой ложкой чем застрять с ним на этом корабле." [Russian: I'd rather gouge my own eyes out with a rusty spoon than be stuck on that ship with him.]

"A rusty spoon, D?" Elizabeth asked incredulously.

"A rusty sundae spoon, ma'am," D agreed firmly, "It's thin, fairly delicate, and not at all suited for gouging. Especially if it's rusted over."

"What?" Rodney looked between the two women, "Why are you talking about spoons right now? Who's gouging things? Why are you bringing upspoons when there's an Ancient ship to check out?"

"Is there a problem, Elizabeth?" John drawled.

"No problem," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at D, "Dr. Vaughn and I were just having a quick discussion. Colonel, have your team ready to go in an hour. You'll be catching a ride on the Daedalus to check out the Aurora."

"We'll be ready," John pushed off the console he had been leaning against.

"I still don't understand what spoons have to do with anything," Rodney huffed.

"I don't think we were supposed to understand," John shrugged, pausing next to D as he started to leave, "Former DGSE instructor?"

"Don't be silly, Sheppard," D smiled coyly, looking up at him from under her lashes, "I slept with the French Ambassador and his wife. Lovely couple. A bit boring for my tastes, though. I prefer more enthusiasm in my partners."

"You slept with…you-what?" Rodney spluttered and flushed red.

"Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth admonished.

"What?" D smiled innocently at Elizabeth, "I was only answering Sheppard's question."

"Both at the same time?" John wondered, grinning widely.

"Of course," D nodded, "And I have to say; she was much better. Very talented tongue...for languages."

Rodney's jaw dropped, his mouth opening and closing several times as he tried to form words.

"John, please go get your team ready to leave," Elizabeth commanded, barely holding back her smile, "D, stop teasing Rodney before you give him a stroke."

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head, hiding her smirk.

"Come on, Rodney," John dragged a still sputtering Rodney away with a strong grip on his arm, "Ancient warship to go check out, remember?"

*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*

"We monitored all transmissions from the Wraith cruisers prior to the explosion," Rodney informed them, "They never got a chance to board the Aurora or upload any of the Ancient information."

"Both cruisers were destroyed in the explosion," Caldwell added.

"It's too bad we weren't able to figure out the Wraith weakness," Ronon sat forward in his chair.

"At least we found out they had one," John pointed out.

"Everyone has a weakness, Sheppard," D spoke absently, "Even the Wraith. You just have to know where to look. Zhèxiē jìshù guīfàn shì mírén de." [Chinese: These technical specifications are fascinating.]

"English, Red," Rodney huffed.

"I thought I did use English," D's nose scrunched up as she looked up from the tablet she was studying, "Didn't I?"

"Never mind," Rodney rolled his eyes as he stood.

"Good work," Elizabeth stood from her chair, "Thank you, everyone."

"Uh, before we break up the party," John reached down next to him to pick up a bottle of champagne, "there's something I'd like to do. Might seem a little strange, but I promised to do something when we got home."

Elizabeth retrieved a silver tray from the shelf behind her desk, holding seven short clear glasses with wide rims and a transparent blue base.

"I can do that, ma'am," D offered quickly.

"I've got it, thanks," Elizabeth smiled.

Elizabeth held the tray steady as everyone stood, taking one of the glasses as John carefully opened the bottle of champagne. Elizabeth set the mostly empty tray back down on her desk, taking the last two glasses herself. The group held the glasses out in front of them as John poured a small amount of the bubbly liquid into each glass. He accepted the second glass from Elizabeth, raising it in the air to meet everyone else's.

"To the crew of the Aurora," John announced quietly and everyone clinked their glasses together. Ronon took a hesitant sip from his glass then joined Rodney in drinking the glass down in one long swallow. Everyone else sipped theirs at a more sedate pace, except D, who only held the glass out to Ronon as she started mumbling to herself, engrossed in the tablet she held once more.

"Don't like it?" Ronon questioned as he accepted her glass.

"Dāng wǒ de gōngzuò, wǒ bù hējiǔ," D waved a hand at him as she moved past, transferring the data from the tablet to the large screen on the wall. She started mumbling to herself in rapid Chinese again, fingers of her left hand dancing over the Ancient symbols as they scrolled across the screen. [Chinese: I don't drink while I'm working.]

"Anyone know what she's saying?" Rodney looked around the room, "Last time she got distracted like this we-"

"You blew up a solar system," John interrupted, "and my jumper."

"Five-sixths of a solar system," Rodney glared at John, "And I said I was sorry about your stupid jumper."

"I'm afraid my Mandarin isn't that good," Elizabeth shook her head, "She's speaking too quickly for me to follow. I wouldn't worry about it, Rodney. I'm sure Dr. Vaughn will let me know if she finds anything important."

"Bìng bù chóng yào, zhǐshì yǒuqù," D shook her head, then went back to mumbling. [Chinese: Not important, just interesting.]

"Not important, apparently," Elizabeth shrugged.

"I'm going to head back to the Daedalus," Caldwell set his empty glass down on Elizabeth's desk, "We're due to leave in twelve hours. Contact me if there's anything you need before then, Dr. Weir."

"Of course, Colonel," Elizabeth nodded as he left.

"Dr. Weir," D kept her fingers moving over to the symbols, "Are you going to need me for anything else today?"

"I think you've already finished everything until the end of the week, D," Elizabeth said dryly, "Why do you ask?"

"Because," D finally looked away from the screen with a soft smile, "the modified hyperdrive specs retrieved from the Aurora are…měilì." [Chinese: beautiful]

John and Rodney looked at Elizabeth inquisitively.

"Beautiful," Elizabeth's lips twitched upwards.

"If you don't mind, ma'am," D cleared the large screen, "I'd like to spend some time studying these with someone else who could understand them."

"You still owe me twenty-seven hours in my lab," Rodney snatched the tablet from D's hands, "Don't think I forgot about that. I was going to have you work on the MTI, but I suppose we could go over these for a little while. It doesn't look that complex. This should only take, what, eight, ten hours, maybe? I'll still have plenty of time left over for you to work on the MTI after this is done."

"I was talking about Dr. Zelenka," D shrugged, "but I suppose you can come too. I'm sure Radek and I can find something easy to keep you occupied."

"Just for that," Rodney glared down at D, "I'm not sharing any of my good coffee with you."

"Rodney," D smirked, "Do you really think I don't already know where you hid it?"

"You don't know," Rodney insisted, "There's no way you figured it out. It's only been there for two days."

"Underneath the-" D started.

Rodney slapped a hand over D's mouth, "Stop."

D raised an eyebrow at him and Rodney dropped his hand as he flushed an embarrassed pink.

"Just for that," D spoke evenly, "you're refilling the coffee pot the first three times. With your good coffee."

"Yeah, yeah, fine," Rodney grumbled, turning to leave, "Come on, Red. Let's go."

"Ma'am?" D looked over to Elizabeth.

"Go ahead," Elizabeth nodded, amusement clear on her face, "Don't keep Rodney up too late."

"I'll do my best," D smiled and turned to tap Ronon on the wrist, "If I get distracted and don't show up tomorrow, come get me."

"I'll bring your clothes," Ronon nodded.

"Don't forget my shoes this time," D called over her shoulder as she left.

"Does Rodney not realize that D manipulated him into sharing his good coffee?" Teyla asked curiously, "And into counting the hours she would have given freely as her promised time?"

"I don't think it'll hit him until later," Elizabeth smiled wryly.

"With the proper training, she will make an excellent negotiator one day," Teyla smiled serenely as she inclined our head, "We should be leaving as well, Elizabeth."

"Good night, Teyla, Ronon," Elizabeth moved back to lean against her desk as Ronon and Teyla left.

John walked over and leaned next to Elizabeth, stretching out his legs in front of him as he drawled, "How much you want to bet security gets called to the lab in the middle of the night to break up a slap fight?"

Elizabeth laughed, "I think they're more likely to pass out in the lab after the coffee runs out."

"Winner buys breakfast?" John grinned.

"Deal," Elizabeth agreed with a warm smile.

* * *

**Special thanks to reader Zoja for fixing my Russian!**


	22. Stamina

John's door slid open to reveal Ronon, dressed in his normal tunic, pants, and boots, with black clothing slung over one of his shoulders and small black tennis shoes in his hand.

"Ready?" Ronon questioned.

"Yeah," John turned back to his desk, "Let me just grab my radio."

Ronon waited in the doorway as John slipped the small earpiece over his ear and stepped outside. The door slid shut behind the two of them and they made their way to the nearby transporter.

"Got make a stop first," Ronon tapped the screen.

The transporter flashed them to a different section of the City and Ronon stepped out, John following quietly behind. As they got closer to the labs, music began drifting through the hall. By the time the two of them reached McKay's lab, the music, something classical with lots of piano, was blaring loudly. Ronon grinned when he saw D facing away from them, shoving the shoes and clothes he carried into John's hands. He stalked across the lab, making his way silently to where D was standing in front of a whiteboard, swaying back and forth in time to the music. Ronon lifted his hand to grasp her shoulder, but D grabbed his hand and twisted before he made contact. She used her grip to force him to his knees, hand twisted at an odd angle away from his body. D used the slim remote in her hand to cut-off the music as she held Ronon in place with the light pressure on his hand.

"What have I told you?" D asked evenly.

"I can't sneak up on you," Ronon gritted out the words as D twisted harder.

"Why do you keep trying?" D wondered.

"Because all it takes is one time," Ronon grinned, "to prove you wrong."

"All it takes is a little more pressure to break all the delicate little bones in your hand," D sighed as she let him go, "Then you won't be able to use it for two months. You won't be able to sneak up on me in the City, Ronon."

"You coming?" Ronon asked as he stood.

D frowned down at her watch, "It's morning already?"

"Yeah," Ronon nodded as John came over to join them, "You sleep?"

"Nope," D shook her head, "You remember my shoes?"

"Right here," John held up the shoes in his hand, "What happened to Rodney?"

D snorted and motioned for the men to follow her, "I put decaf in the pot."

As they stepped around several different whiteboards, Rodney's desk came into view. Rodney was slumped over in his chair, head pillowed on his folded-up jacket, laying on top of the keyboard as he snored softly, mouth opened slightly and hair sticking up in odd directions.

"He didn't make it past 0300," D explained with a small smile, "Passed out on his keyboard mid-rant. It was extremely difficult to get his jacket off to put underneath his head. Took me almost five minutes to do it without waking him."

"You could've woken him up," John drawled, "Sent him to his room to sleep in his own bed."

"If I'd woken him up, he would've insisted on helping," D said easily, "At least this way he got a couple hours sleep. Also, I wouldn't have been able to do this."

D crept closer, moving silently around behind Rodney before she leaned over and drew a finger down the edge of his ear. Rodney's hand slapped the side of his face and he jolted awake violently, red creases in the side of his face that had been pressed against his jacket.

"I'm awake," Rodney insisted as he blinked rapidly, "I only closed my eyes for a second. Sheppard? Ronon? What are you guys doing here?"

"It's 0530, Rodney," D's raspy voice from behind him startled Rodney into jumping off his chair, "You've been asleep for two and a half hours."

"Damn it, Red," Rodney put a hand over his heart as John and Ronon laughed, "Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?"

D grinned as she moved around him to take her clothes from John, "Just having a little fun. Give me two minutes to change, Ronon, then we'll go."

"Wait a minute, you can't leave yet," Rodney called after her as she moved behind two large cabinets at the back of the lab, "Where are you going? We're not done with this yet."

"Running," D answered, "And if you'd actually look at the boards, you'd notice that I finished it."

"_What_?" Rodney scrambled over to the whiteboards, scanning the equations written there in silence for a minute before he spoke again, "What's with the-"

"It only works if it's inverted," D interjected, "Look at the other-"

"Yes, I see it," Rodney moved to the next board, "I told you I was right about the-"

"Yeah, yeah," D agreed, "Have you gotten to the-"

"Wow," Rodney stepped closer to the last board and another minute of silence followed, "This is…hmmm…are you sure this is right?"

"Checked it twice," D started walking back to the desk. Her gray uniform and blue shirt were folded neatly in her arms and she carried her black boots and watch. She had changed into a long-sleeved hoodie, thumbs stuck through holes in the sleeves and collar zipped up to her throat, and fitted black pants with no pockets, both made of stretchy black lycra. She set her uniform, including her boots, down on Rodney's desk, slipped the watch back around her right wrist, and after grabbing her shoes from John, went around the whiteboards to sit down on the floor.

"I think we can get an eight percent increase at least," D slipped one foot into her tennis shoe and laced it up tight, "Pretty cool, right?"

"It's more like twelve percent once you take into account the-" Rodney finally looked away from the boards to scowl down at D, "'Pretty cool'? All the words in all the languages you speak and the best you can come up with is 'pretty cool'?"

D finished lacing up the second shoe, "_Arketá droseró_."

"What does that mean?" Rodney held out a hand to pull D to her feet.

"It's Greek," D smirked, "for pretty cool."

"Go away," Rodney commanded, throwing his hands up in the air, "I can't deal with you before I've had caffeine. All of you, out of my lab."

"I'll be back for my clothes later, Rodney," D pulled several pins from her hair and dropped them into her boots. She picked up a slip of paper from the desk and slid it into one of the pockets on her shirt as she moved away. She pulled the elastic band from her hair and drew her long hair into a high ponytail as she followed John and Ronon out of the lab, "You keep pace with the Colonel or leave him behind?"

"Depends," Ronon shrugged.

"On?" D looked between them.

Ronon grinned, "Whether he's whining or not."

"I don't whine," John protested.

"How many laps?" D ignored John.

"Only two with him," Ronon replied, "Doesn't have much stamina yet."

"My stamina is just fine," John scowled at the two of them as they stepped into the transporter. He stabbed a finger onto the screen and white light flashed around them.

"Only two?" D sighed heavily as the doors slid open, "I suppose I can go swimming afterwards."

"We could go around again," Ronon offered, "when he's done."

"Hey," John insisted, "I can go just as long as either of you."

Ronon and D exchanged a quick look before turning back to John with identical smirks, "Prove it."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

John winced as he slid into the seat next to Elizabeth, dropping his head onto the table with a groan.

"What happened to you?" Elizabeth set her PDA down in front of her and put a warm hand on the back of his neck.

"Had to defend my stamina," John mumbled.

"Defend your stamina?" Elizabeth repeated, "What does that mean?"

"It means Vaughn is trying to kill me," John sighed as Elizabeth rubbed her hand up and down his back, "Apparently, Ronon's been going easy on me this whole time and I didn't know it."

Elizabeth looked up as Rodney all but collapsed in the chair on her other side, his hair sticking up in wild tufts and uniform rumpled as he clutched a coffee cup in one hand and a tablet in the other.

"And what happened to you?" Elizabeth wondered.

"Dr. Vaughn's trying to kill me," Rodney whined as he set the tablet down and stared at it blankly.

"You too?" John lifted his head momentarily.

"She hid all the good coffee that I had stashed in my lab," Rodney pouted, "I could only find decaf. What kind of person keeps a person up until three in the morning, wakes them up a mere two and a half hours later, then deprives them of hot caffeinated beverages? An evil, _evil_ person, that's what kind."

"Who is evil?" Teyla sat in the chair next to John.

"Dr. Vaughn," Rodney glowered.

"She tried to kill me," John added, sitting up in his chair with another wince, "Evil."

"Tried to kill both of us," Rodney took a long sip of his coffee, frowning down at the mug with a sigh, "It's just not the same."

"What's not the same, Rodney?" Carson sat down next to him.

"Decaf," Rodney gazed into the empty coffee cup forlornly.

"You've started drinking decaf?" Carson smiled, "Good for you, Rodney. I'm glad you're taking our last talk about your blood pressure seriously."

Rodney lifted his head to glare at Carson, "Believe me, the decaf was _not_ by my choice."

"Then why are you drinking it?" Carson wondered.

"Because Red is _evil_," Rodney huffed.

"Definitely evil," John nodded, "Tried to kill us."

"I haven't tried to kill anyone for at least a month," D walked up to the table, several trays full of food and a large carafe with steam rising from it balanced in her arms. Ronon followed behind her slowly, very carefully carrying three trays of his own.

"Let me help you with those, D," Teyla rose from the table, transferring the trays from D's arms to the table.

"Thank you, Teyla," D set the carafe down.

Ronon sat in the last chair, pushing one tray in front of Teyla and the other in front of Carson, keeping the one piled high with sausage and bacon for himself.

"Is that real coffee?" Rodney eyeballed the carafe warily, "Or more decaf masquerading as coffee?"

"Real coffee, Rodney," D turned away as Rodney made grabby hands at the container, "Eat something first. You skipped dinner. I'll be right back."

John pushed the carafe close enough that Rodney could reach, pouring himself a cup as everyone began eating quietly.

"How did it go last night, Rodney?" Elizabeth asked curiously, "With the hyperdrive specs."

"Really well," Rodney sighed happily as he inhaled the steam coming off his hot coffee, "I'm pretty sure we found a way to increase the efficiency of the 304s hyperdrives by twelve percent."

"Really?" Elizabeth marveled, "Twelve percent? That's fantastic."

"It'll take a little time to adapt the Ancient-based systems to the Earth-Asgard ones they're using now," Rodney shoved a bite of eggs into his mouth, "but we should be able to do it. I've already sent Zelenka a copy of the report and assigned a team to work on it. I sent a copy to your inbox and put it in the file for the next transmission to Earth too. I did most of the work last night figuring out the equations they were using in the simulation, so it should be pretty simple for the engineers at this point. A week, at the most."

"You did not do most of the work, Rodney," D set down five glasses in the middle of the table, pouring orange juice into each of them from the large pitcher she held, "It was a combined effort. And I was the one who actually finished the last equation while you were passed out at your desk."

"Because some _evil person_," Rodney glared up at her, "decided to put decaf in the coffee pot. Why do we even have decaf in the City? Who requisitions decaf? Does anyone in Atlantis actually drink decaf?"

"How else was I supposed to get you to shut up long enough for me to concentrate?" D smirked at him, "Do you want something else to drink? They have milk and some other fruit juices that aren't citrus."

"No, I have real coffee now," Rodney gestured to his coffee cup using his fork, "I don't need anything else."

D looked around the table, "Anyone else want coffee or is McKay drinking the whole thing himself?"

"I wouldn't mind a cup," Carson spoke up, "Thank you, dear."

"I'll take one as well, D," Elizabeth smiled, "Thanks."

"But I need the caffeine," Rodney pulled the carafe closer to him protectively, "Carson, aren't you always saying coffee is bad for your blood pressure? Why are you drinking coffee now?"

"I had a late night as well, Rodney," Carson informed him, "And I said drinking the sheer amount of coffee you do is bad for your health."

"I'll bring another one," D rolled her eyes as she left, "So Rodney will stop pouting."

Ronon reached for one of the glasses of orange juice, downing half of it in one large gulp and refilling it from the pitcher before he went back to his food.

"So do you run like that every morning, big guy?" John pulled his own juice in front of him.

"Three laps with her," Ronon answered with a mouth full of food, "Two with you."

"You ran with Ronon and D this morning?" Teyla looked over to John, "No wonder you are hurting."

"_Hey_," John objected, "I did just fine."

"They challenged his stamina apparently," Elizabeth smiled wryly.

"There's nothing wrong with my stamina," John insisted with a scowl.

"I have seen the two of them running together," Teyla patted his arm in comfort, "I doubt many could keep up with them."

"The Colonel did much better than I thought he would," D set two coffee mugs and a second carafe of coffee on the table, "but I'm sure he's feeling the strain from overexertion now. Did you need anything else before I go, Dr. Weir?"

"You're not going to eat with us?" Elizabeth questioned.

"No, ma'am," D shook her head, "I just wanted to make sure everyone ate properly this morning."

"Doesn't that include yourself?" Carson looked up at her.

"I'm going to go change so I can get in a quick swim before I have to get to work," D said easily, "I'll grab something when I'm done."

"Didn't you already do three laps around the City?" John asked warily.

"Yes," D agreed easily, "But normally I do three laps with Ronon, then another three afterwards."

"Six laps around the catwalks?" Rodney looked up at her oddly, "That's almost twenty four kilometers."

"Twenty four point one," D shrugged as she accepted the piece of bacon Ronon offered.

"You run twenty four point one kilometers every morning?" Rodney gaped at her, "Even after being awake all night?"

D finished chewing and swallowed quietly before she responded, "Not every morning. Sometimes I swim laps for an hour instead. Or a combination of the two like today."

"Wait," John paused with his glass halfway to his mouth, looking between Elizabeth and D, "Since when do we have a pool?"

"We don't," Elizabeth explained, "but D convinced me to have the space between the North and West piers sectioned off for swimming."

"Are you not concerned about the creatures living in the ocean?" Teyla inquired.

"I requisitioned waterproof netting a couple months ago," D answered easily, "The marine biologists assured Dr. Weir that anything small enough to get through the holes was harmless. Captain Bosco's entire team is dive certified and they were kind enough to install the netting. There was a memo sent out to all personnel when it was finished. Why do you think I smelled like sea-salt when a certain person got the irrepressible urge to sniff me?"

John choked on the sip of orange juice he had just taken. Elizabeth bit back a laugh as she reached over to thump him on the back.

"Must be extra pulp in the orange juice this morning," D smirked and pulled a piece of paper out of her shirt pocket, "Here, Teyla."

"What is this?" Teyla accepted the paper.

"It's the location where I hid McKay's coffee," D explained, "If he's a good boy and eats all his breakfast, you can give it to him. If he's naughty and doesn't finish his food, you can trade it to Nurse Soto for those chocolates you like."

"Wait a minute!" Rodney protested loudly, "That's my coffee, you can't just-"

"The ones with the caramel filling?" Teyla pursed her lips as she looked at Rodney's tray thoughtfully.

"The very same," D nodded as she leaned down to fake-whisper in Carson's ear, "Make sure Rodney doesn't choke when he starts shoveling food into his mouth. I'd hate to have to break in another physicist."


	23. Conversations

"You're back early," Elizabeth greeted Lorne as his team stepped through the gate.

"Uh, Jenev is kind of a closed society," Lorne said dryly, "Very polite and very courteous, but completely uninterested in having anything to do with us."

"Well, better that than hostile, I suppose," Elizabeth stopped to face Lorne, "Colonel Sheppard's team – three hours overdue."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Lorne smiled, "Any radio contact?"

"None since they left," D shook her head.

"Well," Lorne replied easily, "You know those guys, ma'am."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "What do I know about those guys?"

"Just that they tend to get all caught up in whatever it is they're doing, and sometimes they don't check in. They forget how much you worry," Lorne continued quickly at Elizabeth's flat look, "That _we_ worry…_collectively_, I mean."

"Yes, _we_ do," Elizabeth agreed evenly.

"Yeah, we do," Lorne grimaced slightly as he looked over Elizabeth's shoulder to his team, "Okay, you guys. Looks like we're heading back out."

"Thank you, Major," Elizabeth smiled as she headed up the steps to the control room.

"You're welcome," Lorne turned back towards the gate.

"Major?" D moved over to stand close, keeping her voice quiet, "A word?"

"Sure," Lorne agreed, "What's up, Dr. Vaughn?"

"I've spoken to Ms. Emmagan about AR-1's tendency to be lax with their check-ins," D informed him, "Of the four of them, she is the most responsible. She assured me that she would remind certain members of the team of the fact that Dr. Weir worries about them. We should have heard something by now. Three hours is a long time to be overdue, even for them."

"You think they Sheppard's team might actually in trouble?" Lorne asked carefully.

"I am…concerned," D responded calmly, "about the authenticity of the information that sent them on the mission in the first place. Teyla places a great deal of trust in her off-world contacts. The tip about the ZPM was unverified. I find it curious that this particular contact insisted that Colonel Sheppard's team be the ones to follow up."

"Well, it makes sense," Lorne offered, "If it was one of Teyla's contacts, they'd want to talk to her."

"Atlantis has received tips from her contacts before," D countered, "They normally only request that an Athosian be present. Usually Sgt. Stackhouse's team follows up, with Halling acting as their guide. This contact was quite adamant that Teyla herself, along with the rest of AR-1, be in attendance. And now the team is three hours late to check in. I'm finding the coincidence a little difficult to believe. I'd advise your team to proceed with caution."

"All right," Lorne nodded, "We'll be careful."

"Also," D flicked her glance to the control room, "I'd like to keep this conversation between the two of us. I don't want Dr. Weir to worry any more than she already is."

"Of course," Lorne agreed.

"If you do find Sheppard's team, Evan," D turned to leave, "Please remind them how much we worry about them…_collectively_."

"I'll be sure to tell them," Lorne smiled as the gate sprung to life.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"If they were okay," Elizabeth paced behind Lorne, "they would have radioed in by now."

"I understand that, ma'am," Lorne replied carefully.

Elizabeth moved around to sit at her desk, looking over D with a determined gaze, "I want everyone who is cleared for off-world activity to help with the search."

"I'll start coordinating the search teams as soon as we're done here, ma'am," D inclined her head.

"The Daedalus is on its way from Earth, then they'll be able to help," Elizabeth continued, "but until they get here, it's up to us."

"And I know that," Lorne nodded, "but I need you to understand that it is gonna take a very long time to search all the planets on our list. It…it could take months."

"Will take months," D corrected, "Assuming they were only taken through one gate and not multiples, even utilizing all Atlantis personnel cleared for off-world-"

"We cannot afford months," Elizabeth interrupted.

"We know that, ma'am," Lorne responded softly.

"Good," Elizabeth ducked her head to look at her desk.

"I'll be out in a minute, Major," D spoke quietly as Lorne stood.

The glass door slid shut behind him and D moved around the desk, lifting a hand cautiously to place it on Elizabeth's shoulder.

"I don't know how to reassure you, Elizabeth," D spoke quietly, "I can give you details and statistics. I can give you thousands of possible scenarios and tell you which ones are the most and least likely. I can coordinate and schedule dozens of search teams all in my mind. I can tell you how to best utilize every single member of this expedition to their full potential. I can systemically hunt down and destroy all your enemies. I can't, however, tell you for sure that we will find Sheppard and his team. I won't lie and tell you I believe they are safe. "

"I know, D," Elizabeth brought her hand up to rest on top of D's, "But if you can do all that other stuff, I can have faith that we'll find them."

"May I ask you a personal question, ma'am?" D dropped her hand, turning to lean against the desk and blocking the view of Elizabeth from the control room.

"Of course," Elizabeth nodded.

D tilted her head to the side, "Why do you hide your personal relationship with Colonel Sheppard?"

"Personal relationship?" Elizabeth asked evenly.

"Elizabeth," D leveled a flat stare at the other woman, "I am an extremely observant person. The two of you are discreet enough that no one else has noticed, but it's clear to me from the way the two of you act around each other and the way both of you react when the either is in trouble, that you are…close to one another. I'd guess you've been dating, or whatever term you prefer to use, since shortly after you came back to the City after reconnecting with Earth. I'm just curious why you both choose to keep it a secret. Since he is military and you are civilian, there are no rules or regulations that say the two of you can't be together. And I'm positive that your relationship would be welcomed, even encouraged, if it became public knowledge."

"Welcomed and encouraged _here_," Elizabeth sighed, "But if the IOA found out that the expedition leader and the military commander were…seeing each other, they could use the information to have one or both of us removed."

"If you are doing nothing wrong," D scowled slightly, "nothing against regulations, and your ability to do your jobs is clearly not impacted by your relationship, then how could they use that information to remove you?"

"Let me put it this way," Elizabeth leaned back to look up at D, "If you were researching a target, a female civilian in charge of an international expedition including both military and civilian personnel, looking for the best way to manipulate the target into doing what you wanted…"

D looked at Elizabeth thoughtfully for a moment before she spoke again.

"Two things," D replied evenly, "First, if I were researching a target such as yourself, which I have done, by the way, I would know that the best way to manipulate you is not through your personal relationships. That would have the exact opposite effect intended. I would normally consider you a pacifist, but when anyone you care about is threatened, you would fight to your dying breath to protect them, in any way you could. Your emotions do not make you weak, they make you stronger."

"And second?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"Second," D narrowed her eyes at Elizabeth, "If you for one second believe that anyone in this City would let the IOA remove you or Colonel Sheppard without a fight, you don't know them nearly as well as you think you do. Atlantis itself would protest if they even tried. These people have an enormous amount of respect for you and for the Colonel. If you want to keep your relationship a secret because you're both private people that's one thing, but don't let a bunch of bureaucrats in a different galaxy dictate your actions."

"Hmmm," Elizabeth considered D carefully, "When did you get so wise?"

"I don't really consider it wisdom," D shrugged, "so much as unwillingness to let a bunch of paper-pushers whose collective purpose seems to be annoying the shit out of anyone working for the SGC with their ridiculous meddling dictate terms about your personal life."

"Why don't you tell me how you really feel about the IOA, D?" Elizabeth deadpanned.

"I don't think we have time for that, ma'am," D straightened from Elizabeth's desk, "I have search teams to coordinate."

"Of course," Elizabeth nodded, "Dr. Vaughn? I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention anything about…my personal relationship with Colonel Sheppard. I'm still not ready for anyone else to know."

"Dr. Weir," D raised an eyebrow, "Why do you think I was sitting between you and the control room? I know at least two of them read lips. Until you choose to tell people, it's none of their business."

"You asked about it," Elizabeth pointed out.

"You didn't have to answer," D replied easily, "My entire life is based on secrets, Elizabeth. What would make you think I would give yours away?"

"You wouldn't," Elizabeth smiled softly.

"I wouldn't," D agreed as she moved towards the door, "I'll keep you updated on the teams' progress in searching for AR-1, ma'am."

"Thank you, D," Elizabeth nodded once as the glass door slid open in front of D, "And don't think I didn't notice the part about hunting down and destroying my enemies."

"Systematically, ma'am," D called over her shoulder, "Let me know when your list is done and I'll get to work on it."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Unscheduled activation!" Chuck announced as the Stargate sprung to life.

Elizabeth came out of her office quickly and Chuck looked up at her with a hesitant smile, "It's Dr. McKay's IDC."

"Lower the shield," Elizabeth ordered as she rushed past.

"Call a medical team, Sgt. Campbell," D added as she followed Elizabeth, "and additional security personnel to the gate room as well."

"Yes, ma'am," Chuck nodded.

"I know what I need to do!" Rodney shouted as he emerged from the puddle. His face was flushed an unhealthy red and his skin was slick with sweat, soaking into his shirt. The gate cut off as Elizabeth reached him and she tried to reach out to take his arm, but he started walking in jerky circles around her.

"Rodney, what's happened?" Elizabeth questioned.

"There's no time, no time! The planet – not Ford's, the one the, uh, ship's headed towards, we need to get there and we don't have much time," Rodney's rambling was even faster than normal, punctuated by wild hand gestures, "I was barely able to escape myself, but I managed to take out the guards," Rodney stopped briefly to point at Elizabeth and grin widely, "Oh, you should have seen me! I was amazing! I wish we'd got it on camera because – that's not the point."

"Rodney, slow down," Elizabeth commanded, "Are you all right?"

Rodney's face reddened even further as it contorted into a grimace, "Yes, yes. I mean, um…" Rodney threw up his hands and let out a hysterical giggle, "I dunno," he started pacing around Elizabeth again, "I mean, I did take out the guards and they were huge and dumb and stupid and-"

"Rodney," D reached over to grab both Rodney's hands mid-flail, stilling him in place, "Look at me. Right here in my eyes. Can you do that for me?"

"I can do that," Rodney nodded furiously as D lifted one of his hands to place on the left side of her chest, spreading her smaller hand on top of his to hold him there, "I mean maybe, probably not right now, but I can-"

"Feel my heartbeat. Feel my chest rise and fall with each breath," D's voice was low and steady, "I need you to try to match your pulse to mine. Use that brilliant brain of yours to slow your heartbeat just like mine. Can you do that for me, Rodney? Can you match my heartbeat?"

"Match your heartbeat," Rodney inhaled and exhaled slightly slower than before and D gave him a soft smile, "Match the heartbeat. Like a game. Find the ones that match."

"A game you're going to win, because you're so smart," D agreed quietly, "Can you tell me what drugs you're on right now, Rodney?"

"I had to take a lot of the enzyme – the Wraith enzyme. Ford and his guys refined it and they're holding the Wraith in the caves so they have a constant supply," Rodney started hyperventilating again, "and I had to take out the guards and they were big and dumb and stupid, so I had to take a big, big dose."

"Keep matching my heartbeat, Rodney," D spoke gently, "Concentrate on that, okay?"

"Okay, matching," Rodney agreed, focusing once more on his hand on her chest, "Right. Concentrate. Matching."

"You're doing a wonderful job, Rodney," D continued in the soothing tone, "I'm so proud of you for taking out Ford's guards. You were so brave to do that. Can you tell me why you took out those big, dumb guards?"

"I had to get the control crystals from Ford's room so I could fix the DHD," the words tumbled from Rodney's mouth, "I had to get back here so I could stop the ship from getting to the planet."

"Such a smart man," D held Rodney firmly in place as the medical team came running into the room, one hand over her heart, her other wrapped around the wrist at his side, "Such a brave man, Rodney. Such a smart man. Can you tell me where Sheppard, Teyla, and Ronon are now?"

"They're on the ship with Ford and his men," Rodney babbled, "They're all on the enzyme. Except Sheppard, he hasn't taken any of the enzyme but he still couldn't get Ford to give up his ridiculous plan. That's why I had to get back here, so we could stop the ship from culling the planet and rescue the team. They should've been back by now but the guards didn't believe me when I said something was wrong so I-"

"Keep matching my heartbeat, Rodney," D interrupted softly, "You don't have to tell us anymore, okay? You did a wonderful job. You took out the big, dumb guards all by yourself and you warned us about the ship. We'll take care of it from here. All you need to do now is go with Carson. He's going to take you to the infirmary now."

D released Rodney's left hand at his side as she spoke, motioning for Carson to come closer. She moved Rodney's right hand from her chest to Carson's, pulling Carson's hand up to rest over Rodney's, hers on top of both of them.

"You're going to match Carson's heartbeat now, okay, Rodney?" D started walking them both towards the gurney, guiding Rodney to a sitting position before she finally dropped her hand, "Concentrate on matching Carson's heartbeat, nothing else."

"Right, concentrate," Rodney's gaze shifted from D to Carson, "Matching the heartbeat. I can do this. I can match it. This is easy. I'm smart enough to do this. My brain can do anything."

"He said took a massive dose of Wraith enzyme," D whispered to Carson.

"Oh, good lord," Carson swore quietly as Rodney continued rambling.

"His blood pressure and pulse are ridiculously high, even for him," D informed Carson, "Try to stay as calm as you can so your heartbeat stays down and if you need to leave, get Marie to take your place and tell her the same thing. Rodney's stubborn brain should be able to lower his pulse if he concentrates on it enough. If we're extremely lucky, he won't have a stroke before you get his blood pressure down."

"Got it," Carson turned to Rodney, "Come on, lad. We're going to take a quick trip to the infirmary and get you checked out, all right? You just keep concentrating on matching my heartbeat."

As the medical team wheeled Rodney away, Elizabeth moved over by D, "Did you understand what he was talking about?"

"Not entirely, ma'am," D admitted as she turned to Elizabeth, "He mentioned Ford twice. I'm assuming he means Lt. Aiden Ford. It seems the Lieutenant has a number of men drugged with the Wraith enzyme, whether by choice or not. It sounds like AR-1 was lured to the planet by Ford and taken somewhere else, then given the enzyme and forced to participate in some sort of 'ridiculous plan'. I'm not sure but I think it has something to do with a Wraith ship. He mentioned something about stopping the ship from culling."

"So they're all hopped on Wraith enzyme," Elizabeth questioned evenly, "somewhere on a hive ship about to cull a planet?"

"I'm not sure, ma'am," D replied carefully, "But it might be worth using the long-range sensors to look for any Wraith ships nearing planets."

"Do it," Elizabeth ordered, "Hopefully, this information will be what we need to locate them. Let me know what you find."


	24. Recovery

"Colonel Caldwell," Carson met Elizabeth, D, and Caldwell at the infirmary door, "I didn't think you were due back here for days."

"Dr. Weir requested that we join the search ASAP," Caldwell explained, "so Hermiod implemented some of Dr. McKay's changes to the hyperdrive a bit early and we pushed the engines."

Elizabeth looked past Carson to see Rodney restrained on one of the beds in the infirmary. Even with the oxygen mask covering his mouth, she could see him breathing unsteadily as he shuddered, his face still flushed an unhealthy red.

"How is he?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

"I've sedated him; administered a beta blocker to bring his blood pressure down to a more manageable level," Carson glanced back to Rodney, "It's a wonder he didn't suffer a stroke."

"How much of the enzyme did he take?" Elizabeth questioned.

"A very big dose, I'm afraid," Carson replied, "I found a significant amount of it in his system, nearly as much as Lt. Ford."

"All right," Elizabeth spoke calmly, "Can you wean him off it?"

"I wish I could. Unfortunately, Lt. Ford took the last supply of our enzyme when he left Atlantis," Carson answered regretfully, "so an incremental withdrawal is out of the question."

"Unless we harvest more enzyme," Caldwell suggested evenly.

Elizabeth turned to raise eyebrow at Caldwell.

"Not an option," Carson shook his head before Elizabeth could respond, "By the time you go out and collect it, the enzyme will have broken down in his system already. No, I'm afraid for Rodney the only choice is-"

"Cold turkey," Caldwell concluded.

"Aye, to put it bluntly," Carson agreed, "I can administer some drugs to help ease the process: anti-nausea medication, pain reliever, benzodiazepine for anxiety, as well as a multi-vitamin injection to bolster the immune system."

"Good," Elizabeth nodded.

"But there's no dodging the fact it's gonna be difficult," Carson continued unhappily, "possibly even deadly."

"I might be able to help him, ma'am," D offered quietly.

"Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth cautioned her after a quick glance at Caldwell, "I'm not going to authorize-"

"I'm not talking about retrieving the enzyme, ma'am," D interrupted, looking past Carson to where Rodney was still tossing fitfully in the bed, then back to Elizabeth, "_Ego potest auxilium aliterque_." [Latin: I can help in a different way.]

"Explain, please," Elizabeth commanded.

"_Yo no te dije todo sobre mí, señora_," D began carefully, "_Hay cosas de mí que no figuran en mi archivo_." [Spanish: I haven't told you everything about me, ma'am.] [Spanish: There are things about me not in my file.]

"_Qué tipo de cosas_?" Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. [Spanish: What kind of things?]

"_Cosas que nunca han contado a nadie_," D held Elizabeth's strong gaze, "_No estoy seguro de que va a trabajar, pero me gustaría probar._" [Spanish: Things I haven't told anyone.] [Spanish: I'm not sure it will work, but I'd like to try.]

"_Es peligroso_?" Elizabeth questioned. [Spanish: Is it dangerous?]

"_No tengo ni idea_," D admitted, "_Nunca he tratado de ayudar a un adicto a las drogas por una abstinencia antes_." [Spanish: I have no idea.] [Spanish: I've never tried to help a drug addict through withdrawal before.]

"All right," Elizabeth agreed cautiously, "But if turns out to be dangerous…"

"I'll stop, ma'am," D inclined her head, then turned to look up at Caldwell, "Colonel, we've asked Dr. Zelenka to come up with a list of hive ships that are near any of the gate addresses recovered from the original planet's DHD."

"I'd like you to start checking the planets on his list," Elizabeth ordered, "We've been sending teams through the gate since Sheppard's team has been missing, but Dr. McKay coming back is the first break we've had in our rescue efforts. We could use your help, Colonel."

"Of course," Caldwell agreed easily, "I'll head back to the Daedalus now."

"If you need anything, ma'am," D followed Carson into the infirmary.

"I'll call," Elizabeth nodded as she left.

"What are you planning on doing, lass?" Carson asked quietly as they neared Rodney.

D pulled a chair silently over to Rodney's bedside. She unzipped and removed her uniform jacket, laying it over the back of the chair and pulling her long sleeves up to her elbows before she sat down gracefully in the chair.

"Touch is a very powerful tool, Carson. A tool that I learned to wield expertly a long time ago," D's voice was low and melodic as she silently removed the restraint from Rodney's right arm, "A simple caress on the cheek can make someone feel loved. A hand brushed down an arm can be either intimate or comforting, depending on how you do it. A chaste kiss on the forehead can demonstrate familial affection," D laid her right hand gently over Rodney's forearm, "A light slap on the hand is a mild reprimand when someone gets too close to something they shouldn't. A backhanded hit across the face has been used for centuries to show the person they are beneath someone. A hard kick to the groin is enough to send most people to their knees, man or woman," D closed her eyes as she pressed the fingers of her left hand lightly over the pulse in Rodney's wrist, "A single touch can mean so many different things. Touching someone's neck in any fashion is intimate, but that intimacy can be good, like pulling someone close to you by the back of the neck for a kiss, or bad, like using the grip on the back of their neck to force the person to move. A light grip on a person's wrist can feel intimate and reassuring, but tighten the grip too much and it becomes threatening, restraining. A touch can be pleasure and pain all at once," the rapid beeping of the heart monitor began to gradually slow and Rodney's breathing started evening out, "Most living creatures, human or otherwise, need touch – crave it. And that's just touches between normal people. If one normal human can have that much influence over another human with a touch, imagine what an angel could do with that same touch."

"His heartbeat has slowed," Carson looked between the monitor and Rodney, "and he looks to be breathing easier. What are you doing? Are you _healing_ him?"

"No, of course not," D answered softly, "I'm merely using touch to convince his cells that he's experiencing pleasure instead of pain. Rodney's stubborn mind is doing all the heavy lifting. It won't get the drug out of his system any faster, but it should lessen the strain to his system."

"How in the _world_ are you doing that?" Carson asked incredulously.

"It's difficult to explain," D cracked open an eye to look up at Carson, "and it takes a great deal of concentration to affect a large scale change like this, so if you don't mind..."

"Of course," Carson agreed quickly, "I'll instruct the staff to leave the two of you be. Nurse Ko and I will monitor Rodney's condition."

D hummed in agreement as she closed her eyes again, keeping her hands pressed against Rodney's arm.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"How's it going?" Elizabeth came up behind Carson quietly.

"I think Rodney's through the worst of it," Carson turned to face Elizabeth, a tired smile on his face, "He's asleep now. I don't know how D's doing it, but she's managed to keep him pain-free through the entire ordeal. It's remarkable, really."

Elizabeth returned his smile briefly, "Has he mentioned anything about Sheppard and the others?"

"I'm afraid not. Our conversation was of a different sort," Carson shook his head, "Whatever D's doing is making Rodney giddy. He's proposed to everyone he's seen, including me, at least three times. He pouts when we tell him no."

"I'm almost sorry to have missed all that," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"I'm fairly certain he's through the worst of the withdrawal," Carson continued, "The nausea has passed, his pulse has returned to normal, blood pressure in a more reasonable range, considering his borderline hypertension before taking the enzyme."

"We'll have to thank Dr. Vaughn when this is over," Elizabeth shifted her gaze to the red-haired woman still sitting next to Rodney's bedside, her hands gentle on his arm, "McKay could've gone through much worse."

"I don't think she'll accept the thanks," Carson looked over to Elizabeth curiously, "She insists it's Rodney's stubborn mind doing all the hard work."

"Her exact words, I'm sure," Elizabeth smiled wryly, "They're like two sides of the same coin. So similar and yet so different. Both ridiculously stubborn."

"Aye," Carson agreed, "But I don't think we'll be telling either of them that."

"No," Elizabeth shook her head, "I don't think we will. You should get some rest Carson. You look exhausted."

"I'd like to stay a wee bit longer," Carson admitted, "just to make sure Rodney's truly out of the woods."

Elizabeth smiled and nodded before she walked forward to brush a hand over D's shoulder. D blinked her eyes open slowly, smiling softly when she focused on Elizabeth.

"You need to sleep," Elizabeth ordered gently, "I know you haven't slept much since Sheppard's team went missing."

"I'm fine, ma'am," D spoke slowly, fatigue clear in her tone.

"Exhausting yourself won't do anyone any good," Elizabeth pointed out, "Even you need to sleep sometimes."

"I know my limits, Elizabeth," D insisted as her eyes fluttered closed.

"I know you do, D," Elizabeth leaned down to press a soft kiss to D's forehead, "but you don't need to push yourself so hard, okay?"

"Yes, _mater_," D sighed quietly. [Latin: mother]

"If I was really your mother," Elizabeth laughed softly as she turned to leave, "I would've grounded you a long time ago for sassing me all the time."

A soft smile came across D's face as Elizabeth left.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

Elizabeth looked up from her work as the door to her office opened.

"Well, look at you," Elizabeth smiled as she stood.

"Ah, yes," Rodney replied, "Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as the idiom goes."

"You gave us quite a scare," Elizabeth came around the desk to stand by Rodney.

"It was very strange," Rodney confessed, "The whole time I was under the influence of the enzyme, it felt like I was, uh, I was perfectly lucid – eloquent, even. That it was you who wasn't making any sense or listening to reason. It was very peculiar. I think I kind of understand how Ford must have been feeling this whole time."

"Now that you're feeling more yourself and not asking half the staff to marry you," D set down her tablet on Elizabeth's desk, "Can you tell us what happened to your team? And where they are? Even with the information we got from you yesterday morning, we've been unable to locate them."

"I don't know exactly, but I think I can figure it out," Rodney started moving towards the control room, Elizabeth at his side and D following behind the two of them, "I told you Ford's alive."

"You mentioned that, yes," Elizabeth agreed, "But I wasn't sure whether to believe you."

"The man is nothing if not resilient. He's been busy, too. He's gathered himself together a little gang, doped them all up on the enzyme," Rodney sat in one of the chairs in the control room, "They're the ones that caught us, drugged us, and coerced Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon to join them on a mission to destroy a hive ship."

"To destroy a hive ship?" Elizabeth exchanged a glance with D.

"I took that into account, ma'am," D responded easily, "The sensors have been scanning for any recent debris that could be a hive ship as well as actual hive ships."

"If you've already been tracking hive ships, that should make this easier," Rodney started typing on the laptop in front of him, "Ford's gang managed to steal themselves a Dart. Like I said, he's been busy. Look, when they didn't return from the mission, I realized something had obviously gone wrong. Now, I have the coordinates to the planet that the hive ship was headed towards to cull."

"So if the team is still alive," Elizabeth said, "maybe captured on the ship, there's a chance we can rescue them."

"Yeah," Rodney agreed, "At the very least we can warn the planet of the impending culling."

D walked around the console to look over Rodney's shoulder, "Are those the coordinates of the planet, Doctor?"

"Yeah," Rodney nodded, "The planet has a space gate, but if we go by puddle jumper, we wouldn't be able to do much more than just warn people of the impending culling. It'll be close, but if we use the Daedalus we might be able to get a radio lock on Sheppard and the team inside the hive ship. If they're still alive, we can beam them out."

"Hermiod was able to implement several of the hyperdrive modifications you came up with," D looked down at her watch, "and the Daedalus is due back in ten minutes. Even with the modifications..."

"We'll still be cutting it close," Rodney stood.

"The Daedalus would arrive at the planet approximately eleven minutes after the hive ship," D looked up at Elizabeth, "I'd like to recommend we send three of the seven teams we have available in cloaked jumpers to the planet via the gate, ma'am. They can warn the planet's population about the impending culling, possibly start evacuating some of the indigenous people to the City before the ships get there."

"Let's send Major Lorne's team with Dr. McKay on the Daedalus," Elizabeth decided, "Send four of the remaining teams and one of the Marine units to the planet. Will they have enough pilots for six jumpers?"

"Yes, ma'am," D nodded, "The Marine unit on stand-by has two of their own pilots."

"Good, do it," Elizabeth ordered, "I'd like to save as much of the planet's population as we can."

"I'll start coordinating immediately, ma'am," D inclined her head, then looked over to Rodney again, "Please be ready to leave in ten minutes, Dr. McKay."

"I'm going to go find Zelenka," Rodney headed for the stairs, "Maybe between the two of us we can come up with a way to coax more power out of the hyperdrives without blowing us all up."

"I feel I should point out," D spoke quietly, stepping closer to Elizabeth, "even if the Daedalus manages to make it to the planet in time, the statistical likelihood of rescuing AR-1 from a hive ship is incredibly slim."

"I'll take a slim chance over no chance at all," Elizabeth insisted.

"You're an eternal optimist, Elizabeth," D sighed, "I'll assemble the necessary personnel and make arrangements for large groups of refugees with the medical staff."

"I'll contact Colonel Caldwell," Elizabeth headed towards her office, "Think positive thoughts, Dr. Vaughn."


	25. Protocols

"Copy that, Atlantis out," Chuck stood, walking towards Elizabeth's office, "Dr. Weir?"

Elizabeth hurried out of her office, followed by D at a slower pace.

"We received word from Daedalus," Chuck reported, "They said they should be back to Atlantis by nineteen hundred hours with the last of the refugees."

"They called the search off?" Elizabeth asked carefully.

"They said there was nothing to search for," Chuck replied quietly.

"Thank you, Sgt. Campbell," D moved forward to Elizabeth's side as Chuck left, laying a gentle hand on her wrist, "Did you want some time, Elizabeth? I can clear your schedule."

"I'm fine, D," Elizabeth shook her head, "Or I suppose I will be-"

The alarms for the gate dialing started blaring in the control room.

"Off-world activation," Chuck announced as the wormhole connected.

"Who is it?" Elizabeth moved into the control room.

"We have an IDC," Chuck looked up from the laptop with a smile, "It's Colonel Sheppard's code!"

"Lower the shield," Elizabeth ordered as she ran from the control room.

"Yes, ma'am," Chuck agreed as his smile widened.

D tapped her radio and followed Elizabeth down the steps, "Medical personnel and security teams to the gate room. Colonel Sheppard's team has returned."

John motioned for the guards to lower their weapons as he, Ronon, and Teyla stepped through the event horizon. The gate shut off behind them as John stopped right in front of Elizabeth.

"Sorry we're late," John smirked.

Elizabeth grinned widely as D came to stand at her shoulder.

"Gentleman," D looked past the team to the guards standing by the gate, "Colonel Sheppard and his team have been held captive for the past ten days. If you're going to simply take his word that they're not a threat to this City or to Dr. Weir, perhaps I should speak with Major Lorne about assigning you to duties more suited to your skills. I hear Dr. Zelenka's waste disposal engineers are looking for a new escort."

The men quickly raised their weapons once more, training them on the three members of John's team.

"Really, Vaughn?" John drawled.

"Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth sighed.

"Dr. Weir," D inclined her head, "They've been held by enemy forces for an extended amount of time and according to Dr. McKay, Specialist Dex and Ms. Emmagan were drugged against their will. Base protocol clearly dictates they are to be kept under guard until the medical staff can verify their identities and determine they are no threat to the City or her population. Si vous faites une exception pour eux, les gens voudront savoir pourquoi." [French: If you make an exception for them, people will want to know why.]

"I am aware you're using logic to manipulate me, D," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "And I'm not sure I like it."

"Yes, ma'am," D answered evenly, "I would never presume to manipulate you without your knowledge."

"Call a medical team, Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth commanded, "and have a security detail escort them to the infirmary."

"Wise decision, ma'am," D looked Elizabeth's shoulder to where the security team was hurrying into the gate room, followed by a two medics, "Oh look, here they are already."

Elizabeth barely refrained from rolling her eyes as she turned to the new group of people.

"Lieutenant, please escort Sheppard and his team to the infirmary," Elizabeth ordered the young man in uniform, "They are to remain under guard until Dr. Beckett says otherwise."

"Yes, ma'am," the Lieutenant nodded and stepped to the side, "If you would, Colonel."

"Are the semi-automatic weapons pointed in our direction necessary?" John asked resignedly.

"Have the two of you already gone through withdrawal from the Wraith enzyme?" D looked between Ronon and Teyla, "Or is it still in your systems?"

"I do not believe it is still in our systems," Teyla shook her head, "We are ourselves."

"Made us sick on the ship," Ronon agreed.

"Please don't point your weapons at the Colonel's team, Lt. Kagan," D smiled politely at the young man, "We wouldn't want to make him cranky. You know how touchy he can get when his team's involved."

"Yes, ma'am," Kagan bit back a smile as the men lowered their guns.

D looked down at her watch as she turned back to a smiling Elizabeth, "If you don't mind, I'll join you in the infirmary in two hours, ma'am. There are a few things I need to take care of first."

"Take your time," Elizabeth spoke over her shoulder as the group started to leave, "I'll call if I need anything."

"You never thought we were a threat," John spoke quietly as he crossed his arms across his chest, "Did you? Otherwise, you'd be going with Elizabeth to the infirmary."

"No, I didn't," D stepped closer to whisper up at him, "But as I've said, I'm developing a bit of a vindictive streak. You – and your team, of course – have caused Elizabeth a good deal of emotional distress. Seeing her upset makes me irritated with the people who made her that way."

"Anyone ever tell you that you're a pain in the ass, Vaughn?" John wondered.

"General O'Neill…right after he threatened to shoot me repeatedly," D smirked as she turned away, "Have fun with the big needles, Colonel."

"Let's get you to the infirmary, Colonel," Kagan watched D go up the steps, "I'd rather not get on Dr. Vaughn's bad side."

"You do remember that I'm still your CO, right, Lieutenant?" John started walking out of the room, "Dr. Vaughn doesn't actually have the authority to punish you."

"Tell that to Staff Sgt. Vasquez and Sgt. Steele, sir," Kagan snorted, "While you were gone, they were assigned to guard one of the secondary engineering labs. Dr. Vaughn caught them both flirting with a couple nurses in the mess hall when they were supposed to be on duty. She was really quiet when she talked to them so no one's sure what she said, but the Staff Sergeant turned white as a ghost and the next morning the two of them went to Major Lorne to report themselves. He assigned them both to baby-sit the botany team on 356 for the next month."

"Vasquez is a seasoned combat veteran," John scowled, "Marine Force Recon."

"Yes, sir," Kagan agreed, "and Steele did two tours in Iraq as part of a Special Ops team, but he still looked like he was going to piss himself."

"Good to know some of the most elite troops the US military has to offer," John rolled his eyes, "are scared of a five and a half foot tall woman who talks to them quietly."

"Yes, sir, Colonel," Kagan nodded seriously, "Terrified. It's the quiet ones you have to watch out for. You never know they're coming until it's too late."

"You may have a point, Lieutenant," John replied thoughtfully.

*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*

"All done, Dr. Beckett?" D looked over the small group standing around the two beds where Teyla and Ronon were sitting.

"Aye," Carson agreed, "They're all one hundred percent themselves. No trace of the enzyme left in Ronon or Teyla."

"Satisfied, Vaughn?" John questioned.

"Not in years, Sheppard," D snorted and looked past him to Elizabeth, "Your schedule has been cleared until 0800 tomorrow, Dr. Weir."

"It has?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, ma'am," D nodded, "I remembered that you wanted to go over the changes to the security protocols with Lt. Colonel Sheppard."

"I did…" Elizabeth responded carefully.

"And since the Colonel can't seem to keep his team out of trouble-" D continued.

"Hey," John protested.

"-I assumed you'd want to have that discussion as soon as possible," D finished, "Before they go on another mission and get captured by the bad guys. Again."

"We don't get captured that often," John looked around to each member of his team, "Do we?"

Teyla only responded with a small smile and a quick nod.

"More than AR-2 through 6 combined," D gave him a flat stare, "That's why there are always extra teams on stand-by when you have a mission scheduled."

"I guess we'd better go over those protocols tonight then, while we're both available" Elizabeth bit back a smile as she looked over to Carson, "Is the Colonel cleared to leave the infirmary, Dr. Beckett?"

"Yes, the whole team is cleared," Carson nodded, "But I'd like to speak with you about the refugees from the planet."

"I'll take care of it, ma'am," D offered, "Everything else can wait until tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" Elizabeth questioned, "The security protocols can wait if there's something important."

"Vous êtes censée avoir une réunion avec les géologues à 1930," D smiled softly, "Partez avant que je change d'avis, Elizabeth." [French: You are supposed to have a meeting with the geologists at 1930.] [French: Leave before I change my mind.]

"Je garderai ma radio à proximité si vous avez besoin de quoi que ce soit," Elizabeth turned to leave, "Merci, D." [French: I'll keep my radio nearby in case you need something.] [French: Thank you.]

"I'll be sure to call you if there are any emergencies, ma'am," D reached over to grab John's elbow as he started to leave, leaning up to whisper in his ear, "If she's still in a bad mood tomorrow, I'm going to make your life very uncomfortable, Sheppard."

"I'm not sure whether to thank you," John looked down at her curiously, "or tell you to mind your own business."

"When in doubt," D released him, "Choose the former. Better not keep Dr. Weir waiting, Colonel."

John rolled his eyes as he left.

"When did we get new security protocols?" Rodney wondered.

"Several weeks ago," D answered easily, "There was a memo sent out, Dr. McKay."

"I probably blocked it out of my mind because it wasn't important," Rodney frowned at the door Elizabeth and John had left through, "I didn't get a chance to ask Sheppard where he left the dart. I wanted to take a look at it, see if we can get a better understanding of the technology."

"I anticipated your request," D looked over to Teyla, "If Teyla is willing to give us the address of the planet where the dart was left, there is a science team and a military escort getting ready now."

"I would be happy to supply the gate address," Teyla agreed as she stood, "and to accompany Dr. McKay back to the planet, if necessary."

"I'll go too," Ronon hopped off the gurney, "Wraith could show up."

"Actually, I'd like you to stay here, Teyla," D informed her, "The people we rescued from the Wraith culling are an agrarian society who appear to have an extensive knowledge of farming techniques. I believe some of them have expressed an interest in not going back to their planet. I was hoping you could speak to them as the leader of your people, see if you'd like to accept them on the mainland as refugees. I believe your two peoples could have plenty to teach each other."

"How did you know that?" Carson asked curiously, "That's what I was going to speak with Elizabeth about. They only mentioned staying here two hours ago."

"Very little happens in this City that I don't know about, Carson," D replied smoothly, "My network of spies is extensive."

"You've only been here five months," Rodney asked incredulously, "and you already have a spy network?"

"It's the Marines," Ronon snorted, "They like to gossip."

"Not just them," D grinned, "Would you mind speaking with the refugees this evening, Teyla?"

"I would not mind," Teyla smiled, "My people are always willing to take in as many refugees from the Wraith as we are able."

"They're in one of the empty cargo bays," Carson informed her, "Give me and my staff two hours to finish their medical exams, then you're free to speak to them all you wish."

"Of course, Carson," Teyla nodded.

"What about the dart?" Rodney questioned, "You said there was a science team getting ready."

"They'll be ready to leave in an hour," D replied, "Dr. Zelenka's engineers are still gathering their equipment. There should be just enough time for you to grab some food before you head to the planet."

"Come on, Conan," Rodney gestured for Ronon to follow, "Let's go get supper before we leave."

"Tater tots are on the menu tonight, so behave yourselves," D called after them, "If security gets called to break up a fight between the two of you, I'm going to be pissed."

"Have you spoke to any of the people from the planet yet, Dr. Vaughn?" Teyla wondered.

"I haven't, no," D shook her head, "They haven't interacted with anyone outside the guards and Carson's staff."

"If you have the time," Teyla spoke calmly, "I would like you to accompany me when I go to speak with their leaders."

"That's not necessary, Teyla," D replied easily, "Both Dr. Weir and I trust your judgment on whether the people of M59-693 would make good allies for Atlantis and the Athosians."

"While I am pleased to hear you say that," Teyla smiled serenely, "that is not why I am asking. I mentioned to Elizabeth several weeks ago that you would make an excellent negotiator. I would like you to come along and observe so you can sharpen your diplomacy skills."

"Oh," D blinked twice then continued uncertainly, "I'm taking care of Elizabeth's meetings until 2230, I'm not sure-"

"I shall wait until you are finished then," Teyla interjected, "Do you have any clothing besides your uniform or training outfit? Perhaps something less formal?"

"Well, no," D looked down at her uniform, answering uneasily as she looked back to Teyla, "Not really."

Teyla looked D up and down, "We are of a similar size. Stop by my quarters at 2245. You may borrow some of my things."

"But I…" D cleared her throat at Teyla's serious expression, "Of course. I'll be there."

"I shall see you then, D," Teyla inclined her head before she left, "Please do not be late."

Carson laughed at the confused expression on D's face and she turned to glare at him.

"Quite a different sensation when you're the one on the receiving end, isn't it?" Carson grinned.

"She wants me to be a diplomat," D frowned.

"What's wrong with that?" Carson asked, "Elizabeth is a diplomat."

"Yes, and I have a great deal of respect for Elizabeth," D huffed, "But I'm nothing like her."

"You're more like Elizabeth, and Teyla for that matter, than you think, love," Carson argued.

"I don't negotiate with people, Carson," D protested, "I manipulate them into doing what I want them to do."

"From what I understand about the way Teyla negotiates," Carson said dryly, "It's pretty much the same thing."

"If you come up with an excuse to get me out of this," D offered hopefully, "I'll tell you who my spies are on your staff."

"As tempting as that is," Carson laughed again, "I think the experience will be good for you."

"Carson," D pouted.

"You'll survive, dear," Carson patted her arm.


	26. Response

"_Colonel Sheppard, please report to the infirmary_," a loud voice came over the PA, "_Colonel Sheppard, please report to the infirmary._"

John dropped a kiss on Elizabeth's cheek and sat up on the bed, groping the floor beside him quietly in the dim light for his clothes.

"John?" Elizabeth asked sleepily.

"It's fine, Liz," John stood as he slipped into his pants, "I'm being paged to the infirmary. Probably just some of my guys roughhousing again."

Elizabeth turned her head towards her radio as it started beeping on her bedside table.

"Or not," Elizabeth sighed and reached over to slip the earpiece on her ear, leaning over the bed to grab her bra from the floor at the same time, "This is Dr. Weir."

"_I'm sorry to wake you, Elizabeth_," Carson's quiet voice came over the radio, "_But I need you to come to the infirmary. There's been an incident_."

"Is everyone all right?" Elizabeth sat up and accepted the shirt John held out towards her.

"_One of the refugees is being taken into surgery now_," Carson informed her, "_Dr. Vaughn has been injured as well, but she's being…rather _difficult_ regarding her treatment_."

"I'll be there shortly," Elizabeth tapped off her earpiece.

"Problem?" John sat on the edge of Elizabeth's bed to lace his boots.

"It sounds like it," Elizabeth stood to finish dressing, "One of the refugees from M59-693 is headed into surgery. D was injured too, but apparently she's being obstinate again."

"Did you tell her about us?" John asked awkwardly as he stood, "Vaughn, I mean."

"No," Elizabeth shook her head, "But she's an incredibly observant person. She figured it out on her own."

"Yeah," John rubbed the back of his neck, "I kind of figured…with the whole 'security protocol' thing."

"Don't worry, John," Elizabeth tilted her head up to give him a quick kiss, "She's not going to say anything. If fact, I think this was her way of saying she approves."

"I'm glad we have the approval of your assistant," John rolled his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Elizabeth's waist to pull her close.

"Not that we need it," Elizabeth smiled, "but it does make things easier. How else would we have gotten most of a night to ourselves?"

"You know my men are terrified of her, right?" John drawled.

"I think it's most of the City at this point," Elizabeth laughed, "I can't imagine why. The only time D's ever raised her voice was during the bug situation and I think that's just because she dislikes Caldwell."

"According to Lt. Kagan," John pecked Elizabeth on the lips before he released her, "It's the quiet ones you have to watch out for."

"Smart man," Elizabeth slipped on her shoes, "Let's go, Colonel. They're expecting us."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Damn it, D!" Carson shouted, "Will you just hold still and let me look at your bloody hand?"

"No," D replied angrily, "Give me the stupid suture kit and let me take care of it."

"You need far more than a couple of sutures," Carson moved towards her again, "Now give me your hand before you cause further damage by waving the damn thing around."

"I will not," D took another step back, "Either give me the kit, Carson, or I swear-"

"Hey!" Elizabeth came up behind Carson, John a step behind her, "What's going on?"

D glared at Carson as she growled lowly, "You called Elizabeth?"

"I certainly did," Carson straightened as he turned around to face Elizabeth, "Dr. Weir, please tell Dr. Vaughn to let me look at her hand before she gets any more blood on my nice, clean floors."

Carson stepped to the side to give Elizabeth and John a full view of D. She immediately shoved both hands behind her back. She was dressed in one of Teyla's tight Athosian vests, a pale tan that was laced tightly up the center, and pair of warm chocolate brown leather pants over flat shoes of the same textured leather. Her hair was in a thick braid over one shoulder, tied at the end with a strip of braided leather that matched the pants and shoes.

"Dr. Weir," D inclined her head, "I apologize for Dr. Beckett's disruption of your night. I told him it wasn't necessary."

"It's fine," Elizabeth waved a hand, "What's wrong with your hand?"

"Nothing I can't take care of myself, ma'am," D glared at Carson again, "There's no need for you to stay."

John looked down to the small, growing puddle of blood on the floor behind D.

"Put both hands out in front of you, Vaughn," John ordered calmly.

"I don't take orders from you, Sheppard," D raised her chin.

"But you do take them from me," Elizabeth stepped forward, "Hands, out in front of you, now. Both of them."

"It's not nearly as bad as it looks, ma'am," D sighed as she held both hands out. While her left was unscathed, the right had a short knife with an intricately carved wooden handle stuck through the middle.

"Oh my god, D," Elizabeth reached forward to grasp the injured hand gently, "How is this not as bad as it looks? There's a knife stuck in your hand."

"That's what I said," Carson frowned, "She won't let me take her to the scanner to assess the damage to her hand."

"I already told you," D scowled down at her hand, "The knife is embedded between two of the metacarpals and while it did nick the superficial palmar arch, it didn't do any permanent damage to the tendons. I've managed to slow the bleeding and if you would give me the suture kit I asked for, I could take the dagger out and start stitching myself up."

"You can't know for certain what-" Carson started.

"Yes, I can," D argued, "I was right about the concussion and skull fracture. You didn't believe me then either."

"Even if that's true," Carson stepped forward, "I'm not going to let you suture your own hand. You'll need anesthetics and antibiotics, not to mention stitching that many layers of tissue is a very delicate process and it will take quite a bit of time."

"If you had given me the kit when I asked for it," D said sweetly, "I could've been a quarter of the way through the process already."

"Enough, both of you!" Elizabeth interjected as she released D's hand, "D, no more arguing with Carson. Let him fix your hand before you bleed out all over the floor. Carson, you can treat D's hand while she gives us her report."

"Elizabeth," D protested.

"Are you disobeying a direct order, Dr. Vaughn?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"No, ma'am," D ducked her head.

"Good," Elizabeth stepped back as Carson moved forward to take D's hand, "Now, what happened?"

"Carson and Teyla thought I would make a good diplomat," D rolled her eyes as Carson led her over to the scanner, "Obviously that didn't work out."

"How does that lead to you having a knife stuck through your hand?" John questioned.

"Hold still, lass," Carson placed D's hand on a large piece of gauze laid in the center of a folded white cloth. He stepped back and the scanner started moving.

"I needed to justify what I was going to do to the Matriarch's son," D stated evenly, "Or rather, I wanted Teyla to be able to justify my actions to the Matriarch in order to keep their deal intact."

"What does that mean exactly?" Elizabeth asked cautiously, "'Justify your actions'."

"It sounds like you let him stab you on purpose," John said carefully.

"I did," D shrugged.

"You _let_ him stab you?" Elizabeth's jaw dropped.

"It was the only way I could get away with breaking his arm," D looked over to Elizabeth, "I certainly wasn't going to have sex with the moron."

"D," Elizabeth pinched the bridge of nose, "It's the middle of the night."

"0223, ma'am," D agreed.

"Well, it looks like you were right about the damage," Carson moved away from the screen as the scanner stopped, "I'll need to take you into one of the surgical suites. You'll need to be sedated so I can remove the knife and suture your wound without you interfering."

"No," D said flatly.

"Dr. Vaughn," Carson straightened angrily, "I know what I am doing. You're coming with me to the surgical suite."

"Absolutely not," D refused.

"I did specify no more arguing," Elizabeth pointed out.

"I'm not arguing, ma'am," D stated calmly, "I am stating a fact. I am not going to let Dr. Beckett sedate me."

"Now you listen here, lass," Carson shook his finger at D.

D reached down and yanked the knife out of her hand, setting it on the scanner bed as a fresh stream of blood soaked the gauze.

"There," D declared quietly, "Knife out."

"Oh, good lord," Carson rushed over to grab a large stack of fresh gauze from a nearby tray. He stomped over to D and pressed the gauze against the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood, "What the hell were you thinking? You could've done further damage by pulling the damn thing out like that. Not to mention the consequences the additional blood loss could cause. I know your pain tolerance is exceptionally high, but even you can go into shock from something like this."

"It doesn't hurt," D watched with a detached interest as Carson fussed over her hand, "and this way you didn't have to sedate me. You only have to stitch it up. I'm perfectly capable of holding still for the duration."

"Ridiculous child," Carson swore under his breath, "Doesn't hurt my arse."

"Carson," D moved his hand away and pressed the thumb of her left hand into the wound on her right, "It doesn't hurt. See?"

"Stop that, right now," Carson lifted her hand away quickly, "before you make it worse."

"That doesn't hurt?" Elizabeth asked warily.

"No, ma'am," D shook her head, "My pain response won't normalize for at least another eight hours."

"Pain response?" Elizabeth flicked her glance over to John, "_Est-ce un effet secondaire de l'aide que vous avez apportée à Rodney hier_?" [French: Is this a side-effect from helping Rodney yesterday?]

"_Oui, madame_," D nodded. [French: Yes, ma'am.]

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at D, "_Vous m'aviez dit que vous arrêteriez si cela devenait dangereux_." [French: You told me you would stop if it got dangerous.]

"_Ce n'est pas dangereux, madame_," D insisted, "_Je ne ressentirai aucune douleur pour au moins douze heures_." [French: It's not dangerous.] [French: I won't experience any pain for at least twelve hours.]

"How is that not-" Elizabeth cut herself off abruptly, taking a deep breath before she continued evenly, "Colonel Sheppard and I are going to go get reports from everyone else involved. You are going to stay here with Dr. Beckett. Just so there is no confusion, I am _ordering_ you to give Dr. Beckett a full explanation for whatever it is you did yesterday. While you are doing that, you will cooperate _fully_ with whatever medical procedures he deems necessary for your injury," Elizabeth held up a hand to keep D silent when she opened her mouth, "other than sedation. How long has it been since you slept?"

"Fifty-six hours, ma'am," D ducked her head as she replied quietly, "I slept for two hours. Forty-seven hours awake before that."

"And since you ate?" Elizabeth questioned.

"I had a power bar and a bottle of water at 2000, ma'am," D answered meekly, "An apple and a piece of toast for breakfast at 0630."

"Someone will deliver a meal to the infirmary for you," Elizabeth continued in her firm tone, "and Carson will watch you eat the entire thing. After that, you will report directly to your quarters, where you will sleep for a _minimum_ of ten hours straight. I'll come to your quarters at 1530 tomorrow and you will give me the same explanation you gave Carson over a late lunch. If I find out you've deviated from my orders in the slightest – and believe me, Dr. Vaughn, I will find out – the consequences will be extremely unpleasant for you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," D kept her gaze on the floor.

"Dr. Beckett," Elizabeth turned to him, "Thank you for calling me. Please inform your staff that from now on when Dr. Vaughn is brought into the infirmary for any reason, I am to be contacted immediately, no matter the time or severity of the injury."

"Of course, Dr. Weir," Carson agreed.

"Where is Teyla now?" Elizabeth asked.

"She's with the Matriarch in the observation room," Carson gestured with his chin as he switched out the bloody gauze on D's hand, "above suite three."

"Thank you," Elizabeth started walking in the direction Carson had indicated, "Colonel Sheppard, with me please."

When John finally caught up with Elizabeth at the top of the stairs, he pulled her to a stop with a light grip on her elbow.

"If I ask what happened between Vaughn and McKay yesterday," John dropped his hand, "are you going to give me a straight answer?"

"No," Elizabeth tightened her jaw, "and to be honest, I'm not entirely sure what happened myself."

"Then why are you so ticked off at her right now?" John asked.

"I'm not really mad at her," Elizabeth clarified, "I'm mad at myself because I was so wrapped in everything that was going on, I forgot that given half the chance D would work herself to death trying to do what I wanted. I'm mad because I let her take care of everyone else at the expense of her own well-being. I'm mad because I took advantage of her nature by not paying enough attention."

"You couldn't have known something like this would happen, Elizabeth," John said, "There's no way you could've predicted she'd let someone stab her."

"_Ce ne serait pas la première fois_," Elizabeth muttered under her breath. [French: It wouldn't be the first time.]

"What?" John wondered.

"I should have known better," Elizabeth took another deep breath, her voice strong when she continued, "I won't be making that mistake again."

"Isn't Vaughn supposed to be taking care of you," John drawled, "not the other way around?"

"Is that what she told you?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"That's what most people assume," John studied Elizabeth's face carefully, "Are they wrong?"

"Not wrong," Elizabeth replied cautiously, "They just don't have the whole story. I'm just as responsible for D as she is for me."

"Does she know that?" John asked softly.

"Of course, she…" Elizabeth trailed off with a frown and looked back towards the infirmary.

"You know I don't normally stick my nose in other people's business," John shoved his hands in his pockets, "In fact, I try to avoid it as much as possible, but if I thought you were pissed at her, imagine what she must be thinking."

"Crap," Elizabeth closed her eyes with a soft sigh, "_Elle ne se doute pas que je ne suis pas en colère contre elle. Je n'ai fait qu'empirer les choses_." [French: She has no idea that I'm not mad at her. I made things worse.]

"I really need to learn some French," John smiled at Elizabeth as she opened her eyes to look up at him, "I'm not sure what you just said, but I can guess. I can take care of the incident reports if you want to…"

"No, it's all right," Elizabeth straightened, "I'll speak with her tomorrow. This needs to be handled now."

"You're the boss," John stepped to the side, "I'll get a report from the Marines so you can talk with Teyla."

"Thank you, Colonel," Elizabeth walked into the waiting room.

* * *

**I decided that the Lantean planet has 27 hour days. Just because it sounded good.**

* * *

**Special thanks to reader LillyD11 for helping me with the French translations!**


	27. Unnatural

**WARNING! There is a discussion in this chapter of attempted non-con/sexual assault. Please do not read if this will upset you.**

* * *

Matriarch Otelia of the Pulooy was a tall woman, broad muscled shoulders and arms, with warm sepia skin and hair that reached to her waist, the gray and white strands pulled back into several elaborate thick braids, wound together and decorated with small, colorful beads. She wore a sleeveless raspberry colored tunic that ended mid-thigh, delicately embroidered cornflower blue flowers surrounding the V-neck, over loose linen pants in the same bright blue. Tanned leather boots came up to her knees, the outline visible beneath the bright fabric of her pants, rough raspberry hemp laces peeking out from the bottom hem. There were deep wrinkles around her piercing amber eyes and she spoke with a soft lilt when Teyla introduced her to Elizabeth.

"I have heard many things about you," Otelia's eyes raked over Elizabeth quickly.

"I hope they were good things," Elizabeth spoke politely, "I apologize for not coming to speak with you myself before now."

"You need not apologize for that," Otelia gestured around the room, "I imagine it takes a great deal of work to be the leader of a place such as this."

"It does," Elizabeth agreed, "but I have help."

"A leader surrounds herself with loyal people," Otelia smiled sharply, "A good leader surrounds herself with wise people. A great leader surrounds herself with those who are both. What type of leader are you, Dr. Weir?"

"I believe you have already met several of the people I surround myself with, Matriarch," Elizabeth returned the tight smile.

"I have," Otelia glanced over to Teyla and crossed her arms across her chest, "The Emmagan tells me the _eterinės faetae_ belongs to you."

Elizabeth looked over to Teyla curiously.

"_Eterinės faetae_ does not have a direct translation in your language," Teyla explained quietly, "My understanding is that it means something close to 'unnaturally beautiful feminine creature'. I believe in this instance, the Matriarch is using the term in reference to D."

"D does not belong to anyone," Elizabeth straightened, "but I am responsible for her, yes. I didn't get the chance to speak to her for very long, but I understand there was incident between her and your son. Dr. Beckett said that he was in surgery now. I hope he wasn't hurt too badly."

"The _eterinės faetae _broke his arm severely," Otelia eyed Elizabeth shrewdly, "Reparations must be made. Name your price."

"I'm sorry, Matriarch," Elizabeth spoke cautiously, "I'm afraid I don't understand what you are saying."

"Could you tell us what you mean by reparations in this particular case?" Teyla questioned.

"Among our people, if a man treats a woman the way my _son_," Otelia glared through the glass down at her unconscious son as the medical staff hovered around him, "treated the _eterinės faetae_, he would labor for her family for two hundred cycles. The Emmagan has told me that while her people are farmers, yours are not. Regardless, payment must still be made to both the girl and her family."

"Could you tell me exactly what happened between them?" Elizabeth asked carefully, "So I can better understand the situation."

"My son is still young and unaccustomed to being denied," Otelia sighed and dropped her arms back to her sides, "Leadership among my people is passed from daughter to daughter and my only daughter was taken by a fever many seasons ago. Whoever my son marries will become Matriarch when I die. This makes him much desired among the women on our planet. He trades on his status as my son to bed as many beautiful women as he can. The first one to bear him a child becomes his wife and my heir. He is foolish enough to prize beauty over wisdom, but thankfully smart enough to take precautions when he lies with his conquests so he has yet to father a child. He became enamored with…what did you call the _eterinės faetae_?"

"D," Elizabeth answered.

"He became captivated by D's beauty," Otelia continued, "We have never seen a woman with hair and eyes of such unusual colors. My son tried to charm the girl, but I believe his attention only made her uncomfortable. After the _saka_ was passed around, I praised the girl for her insight during the trade negotiations."

"_Saka_?" Elizabeth wondered curiously.

"A sweet wine made from a fruit that grows abundantly on their planet," Teyla explained, "It is a custom among the Pulooy to share a jug at the conclusion of a successful trade agreement. It is…quite potent."

"My approval of the _eter_-of D caused my son's desire to have her grow and he drank more of the _saka_ than he could handle. He mistook her polite smiles as encouragement. When she stood to leave, he grabbed her arm. She requested, more graciously than I would have in her position, that he release her. He refused and drew the knife given to him by my father. He threatened to carve out the girl's eyes if she refused his bed. She warned him that if he did not release her immediately, she would defend herself. Then the stupid, drunken fool attacked her," Otelia's voice grew harsh with anger, "The girl managed to get her hand in front of her face before he could damage her eyes. From what your healers said when they arrived, she broke both the bones in his arm before your guards came to separate them. I fear my son would have tried to attack the girl again had they not intervened. His behavior is shameful and he _will_ be made to pay for it."

"I see," Elizabeth pursed her lips, "And is D to pay for the damage done to your son as well?"

"No," Otelia shook her head, "The _eterinės faetae_ was only defending herself. The fault is my son's and his alone. As the head of her family, it falls to you to name my son's punishment."

"Among my people," Elizabeth spoke calmly, "it is customary for an impartial third party to determine guilt and mete out punishment once all the facts have been established. If I am to be considered the head of D's family, it would be impossible for me to decide his punishment in an unbiased manner."

"I understand," Otelia nodded once, "Perhaps there is a way for both our laws to be upheld."

"What would you suggest, Matriarch?" Elizabeth inquired evenly.

"If you insist that a third party must mete out justice," Otelia shifted her gaze to Teyla, "I would consent to having the Emmagan decide my son's fate. She has proven herself both wise and fair in our negotiations and was there to witness my son's transgressions firsthand."

"Teyla?" Elizabeth turned to her, "You don't have to agree if you are uncomfortable in any way."

"If you both agree to abide by my decision," Teyla looked between the two of them, "I would be willing to act as your impartial judge."

"I will agree," Elizabeth nodded, "Provided your ruling does not break any further laws."

"I agree to those terms," Otelia inclined her head.

"Very well," Teyla drew herself up straight, "Matriarch Otelia, for his transgressions against Dr. Weir's family, your son will forfeit the knife he used to attack D. When your son is sufficiently recovered, he will _personally_ create a tunic and pants for D, dyed gray to match the eyes he threatened to take from her. Every step will be done by himself, from planting and harvesting the crops to weaving and sewing the garments. He will have no assistance and the quality of the garments shall pass approval by your finest weaver or he will start over. You, Matriarch, will personally speak with every woman your son has taken to his bed to make sure he has not coerced any others as he did D. If he has, I expect you to punish him according to the full extent your laws. Until both these requirements are met, your son is to remain celibate."

"It will take several months for our crops to grow on your mainland," Otelia narrowed her eyes at Teyla.

"Then your son will have several months to reflect on the poor choices," Teyla raised an eyebrow at the taller woman, "that led to his punishment."

Otelia threw her head back and burst out in raucous laughter, a brilliant smile deepening the wrinkles on her face.

"You could have used my son's actions against me, changed our trade agreement to favor your people," Otelia's eyes twinkled as she looked between Elizabeth and Teyla, "You are both very great leaders indeed. I believe all our peoples will prosper from this alliance."

"It pleases me to hear you say that, Otelia," Teyla smiled warmly, "If you would not mind, I would like to show Elizabeth some examples of the many fine fabrics your people create."

"Of course. Matie will be happy to show you," Otelia agreed, "He is our finest weaver. The garments he makes are truly handsome. And tell Cassla to give Elizabeth a jug of _saka_ from my stores. A gift…from one leader to another."

"Thank you for you kind words, Otelia," Elizabeth smiled, "and for your generosity. If you have the time, I would like to speak with you tomorrow, get to know you and your people better."

"I will make the time to speak with you, Elizabeth," Otelia inclined her head, "I would get to know you and your people better as well."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

Before Elizabeth could ring the chime on D's door, it slid open in front of her. Elizabeth stepped inside, balancing the two trays of food she carried.

"D?" Elizabeth asked quietly as she peered around the decorative wall next to the door, "You here?"

"Ma'am," D sat up suddenly in her bed, sheet pooling around her naked waist as she blinked rapidly, "I apologize. I meant to set an alarm. I must've forgotten."

D stood quickly, unmindful of her nudity as she pulled open the middle drawer in the single tall dresser in the room. She retrieved a pair of slim black leggings, pulling them on before opening another drawer and taking out an oversized black sweatshirt that she slipped over her head. She ran the fingers of her left hand through her long hair several times, smoothing it out as best she could.

"It's fine. I'm sure you needed the sleep," Elizabeth looked around the room for a place to set the trays. The room was undecorated save for several mirrors in various sizes hung on the walls and a large metal footlocker shoved against one side of the bed. The only furniture besides the dresser was the standard twin-size bed and the long couch that were present in all the living quarters found in the City.

"I don't have many things, ma'am," D explained as she shifted from foot to foot, "Old habits, as they say. Never know if I'm going to have to leave someplace suddenly."

"Except the mirrors," Elizabeth set the trays down in the middle of the couch, "Come sit down and eat please."

"Yes, ma'am," D moved over to sit rigidly on the opposite side of the couch and started to unwrap a sandwich from the nearest tray.

"So why the mirrors?" Elizabeth asked curiously, "And why so many?"

"I can see the entire room from any position, ma'am," D looked at the closest mirror, "No one can hide in here."

"D, stop ma'am-ing me," Elizabeth sighed, "You're not in trouble."

"I'm not?" D asked quietly.

"Not beyond the fact that you weren't taking care of yourself properly, no," Elizabeth shook her head, "But I blame myself for that just as much as you."

"Oh," D ducked her head down as she sat back on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her on the cushion, "I thought you were upset because I injured that idiot boy."

"No," Elizabeth nibbled on her sandwich, "Especially not after the story the Matriarch told me."

"She wasn't upset?" D looked up at Elizabeth warily, "I snapped both the bones in her son's left arm. Clean breaks, so it should heal relatively well over time, but still…"

"Otelia was extremely upset, but only with the way her son treated you," Elizabeth clarified, "She insisted he be punished. His knife is yours to keep and he is hand-crafting you clothing as part of Teyla's ruling. He has to do everything by himself, from planting to sewing."

"That knife is an heirloom," a hesitant smile spread across D's face, "and the clothing will take five months, at least."

"And the man has to remain celibate the entire time," Elizabeth grinned.

"Teyla is…" D shook her head with a soft smile, "I like her and I never want to piss her off. I'm glad she's on our side, especially after seeing her negotiate."

"Both Teyla and Otelia were impressed with the way you handle the negotiations as well," Elizabeth watched as D took a small bite and chewed it slowly, "The Matriarch said you were very insightful. Teyla believes her people got a better deal because you were there to help."

"I'm not sure that's true," D shrugged, "I only offered my observations, nothing anyone else couldn't have done with the proper training."

"But you were the one who made them," Elizabeth insisted, "Not anyone else. Don't sell yourself short, D. You have more to offer than you think."

"Yes, ma'am," D ducked her head and took another bite of her sandwich.

They ate in silence for several minutes until Elizabeth caught the uncontrolled flinch when D tried to wrap her bandaged hand around the water bottle to hold it steady enough to open it. Elizabeth silently took the bottle from D, twisting off the cap and handing it back.

"Thanks," D took a quick drink before she set the bottle down on the floor, "Carson came by a couple hours ago. I think the painkiller he gave me wore off. I'm supposed to go back to the infirmary so he can change the bandage and give me another pain pill. I think he wanted to keep me there overnight but I…I don't sleep well in hospitals."

"Understandable," Elizabeth finished the last of her sandwich.

"I need a lot more sleep when I'm healing," D continued nervously, "that's why I wasn't awake when you arrived."

"It's not a big deal," Elizabeth assured her.

"Aren't you going to ask?" D blurted out the words, "About what I did to Rodney?"

"I haven't decided," Elizabeth answered honestly.

"I don't understand, ma'am," D tilted her head to the side, "You ordered me to tell Carson last night. You don't want to know yourself?"

"I was upset last night because I did something I swore to myself I wasn't going to do," Elizabeth spoke carefully, "I took you for granted."

"You didn't-" D began.

"I did, D," Elizabeth sat forward, "I was so caught up in the search for Colonel Sheppard and his team that I didn't notice how hard you were pushing yourself. Just because you _can_ function on a minimal amount of sleep and little food doesn't mean you _should_. I put my concerns for the team ahead of your well-being and I'm sorry for that. I can't promise it won't happen again, but I will try my hardest to ensure that it doesn't."

"Elizabeth, I-" D looked at her curiously, then looked down at the bandaged hand in her lap. She cleared her throat, then looked back up at Elizabeth, determination in her eyes as she spoke calmly, "When Dr. James and his team injected me, they did more than just alter parts of my DNA. There was an unintended side-effect, one that on no one ever realized. Something that, according to all their theories and tests, shouldn't have happened."

"You don't have to tell me," Elizabeth said softly, "if you don't want to."

"I know, ma'am," D nodded, "but I think…I've never told anyone until last night. I explained it to Carson but…I think I'd like you to know too. It might help us understand each other a little better."

"All right," Elizabeth agreed.

"They gave me control," D looked down at her hand again, "in a way that's difficult to explain, difficult to believe. The reason I am so careful who I touch and who I allow to touch me…" D frowned slightly at her hand before she continued softly, "Imagine if you could see every cell in your body all spread out in your mind – every red blood cell, every nerve, every layer of dermis. Imagine instead of using only ten percent of your brain's potential, you were able to harness closer to twenty or thirty percent of that potential. Imagine you found a way to use that extra mental capacity to your advantage, slowly learning to manipulate those cells in an advantageous way. Now imagine you are a five year old child," D looked back up at Elizabeth's face and there was a flash of fear in her eyes as she continued, "and there are people hurting you in the name of science. How long before you learned to dial back your pain receptors? How long before you learned to control your own heartbeat and breathing in order to give them the responses they were looking for? Imagine you are a sixteen year old girl and you're sent into some of the worst places in the world, ending up injured and alone, knowing no one will come to save you. How long before you learn to slow down blood loss in your wounds so you don't bleed out in a back alley? How long before you learn that you can manipulate your target to a certain extent, merely by touching them in the right way?"

"Not long at all, I would assume," Elizabeth responded carefully, "Is that what you did to Rodney?"

"I tricked his nerve cells into thinking that he was feeling pleasure instead of pain," D explained, "The two sensations can be confused naturally by a person's brain anyway, so it's not that difficult to nudge along. I wasn't sure it would work on Rodney because he had so much enzyme in his system, but his mind proved to be incredibly stubborn."

"And the downside?" Elizabeth questioned.

"My cells have to normalize after manipulation," D answered, "The same amount of time I spent turning pain into pleasure for Rodney, my body turned pleasure into pain. The reason the knife didn't hurt last night is because I was still feeling the opposite of what I should. It was actually quite a pleasant sensation until a couple hours ago. I also slowed the bleeding in my hand for two hours. If I had been cut for two hours after that, I would've bled twice as much as normal. I've learned to work through the after-effects and I only use this…ability, for lack of a better word, when I feel it's necessary."

"Was helping Rodney considered necessary by you?" Elizabeth asked evenly, "Or did you do it for me?"

"Dr. Beckett could've controlled McKay's pain, but he still would've felt it," D tilted her chin up, "If you had said no, I still would've gone back to help him, even if it meant keeping a secret from you."

"Thank you," Elizabeth responded softly, "both for telling me and for caring enough to help Rodney, even if it meant you experienced the after-effects."

"No one should suffer like that if it can be avoided," D reached for her water, "I'd have done the same for most of the people here."

"Most?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"If it was Caldwell or the Matriarch's lech of a son," D huffed, "I might've let them suffer for a while."

Elizabeth laughed brightly as a grin spread across D's face.


	28. Working

"Rodney," John reached across the couch to try to take Rodney's tablet, but Rodney glared at him over the top of it as he moved it away, "It's movie night. No working, remember?"

"This isn't working," Rodney smacked John's hand away as he made another grab for the tablet, "These are some of the schematics for the Wraith dart that I spent the last two days studying. And Teyla chose the Princess Bride…again. I've seen it a dozen times already. I can look at these and watch at the same time."

"If Rodney wishes to be distracted during the movie," Teyla looked between the two of them, "then let him. Perhaps he will not eat as much of the popcorn this way."

"Hey," Rodney protested, "I only take my fair share."

Ronon snorted as he handed John a large bowl of popcorn and sank down on the pile of pillows in front the couch with his own large bowl. Rodney reached over into John's lap to take a handful of popcorn as the door chime sounded. John used the distraction to try to grab Rodney's tablet again, tipping the bowl over dangerously as Rodney scooted away.

"If there is popcorn in my couch cushions again," Teyla moved to answer the door, "the two of you will be cleaning my room."

"Cleaning your room?" D asked curiously.

"D," Teyla smiled as she ushered D into the room, "Have you come to join us for movie night again this evening? We are watching the Princess Bride and there is popcorn available if you can convince Rodney to share."

"I share," Rodney huffed.

"Since when?" John drawled.

"I wasn't planning on staying. I just came by to return your clothes," D held out the neatly folded garments in her left hand, shoes balanced on top, "I would've been by before now, but every time I try to leave my room, one of Carson's nurses shows up. I only managed to sneak out this evening."

"There was no rush," Teyla assured her as she accepted the clothes, "How is your wound?"

"It's healing fine," D pulled the sleeve of her large black sweatshirt down to cover most of her bandaged hand, "Thank you for asking."

"What wound?" Ronon narrowed his eyes at D, "Why are you hiding it?"

"I got stabbed in the hand," D sighed and moved over to sit cross-legged next to Ronon, holding her right hand out so he could inspect it, "Matriarch Otelia's son wanted my eyes."

"He wanted your eyes?" Rodney looked up from the tablet, "What does that even mean?"

"The Pulooy people only have iris colors ranging from pale amber to dark brown," D explained as Ronon carefully unwound the bandage on her hand, "Vathek wanted his wife and children to have something different."

"Wife and children?" Rodney's eyes widened, "You mean he wanted..."

"He tried to carve out my eyes when I refused to have sex with him," D shrugged, "I figured letting him stab me in the hand was better than losing an eye."

"He what?" Ronon growled and tightened his hands around D's.

"The Matriarch was quite impressed with D's handling of the situation," Teyla informed them, "And very disappointed in her son's actions."

D slapped Ronon's arm loudly to get his attention, "Dex."

Ronon looked up from her hand with an angry glare.

"I defended myself and he's been punished according to their laws," D spoke gently, "It's taken care of. You're squeezing my hand and it's starting to hurt."

"Sorry," Ronon relaxed his grip, "You hurt him?"

"Marines said she snapped his arm like a twig," John smirked as he threw a piece of popcorn in his mouth.

"Your Marines are prone to over-exaggeration," D rolled her eyes, "He was mostly drunk and I doubt he's ever been in more than a bar brawl in his entire life. It was hardly a fair fight."

"You broke a guy's arm?" Rodney asked incredulously, "_After_ he stabbed you in the hand? How do you know how to do that? I thought you were some sort of analyst. Why does an analyst know how to break an arm?"

"You've seen my personnel file, Rodney," D looked up at him, "Out of all the agencies I worked for, don't you think at least one of them would've taken the time to teach me how to defend myself?"

"Clean edges," Ronon held D's hand up closer to his face to inspect the stitched wound, "Slid in easy. Where's the knife?"

"It's an heirloom," D reached into her sweatpants pocket to pull out the short knife wrapped in a length of black cloth, "I got to keep it as part of the idiot's punishment."

"You keep a knife in your sweatpants?" John wondered.

"Where else would I put it?" D asked curiously as she handed Ronon the blade, "I'm wearing socks with no shoes."

"Never mind," John snorted, "Obviously a dumb question."

"I was actually going to ask Teyla if she had any contacts that are good with leather work," D looked over her shoulder to where Teyla was sitting in a large, over-stuffed chair, "I was hoping one of them could make a sheath for the knife."

"I would be happy to ask," Teyla nodded, "There are several people among those we trade with that could create something appropriate for you."

Ronon pricked his thumb with the point of the blade and blood started welling up. He stuck his thumb in his mouth to clean off the blood before he tapped a fingernail on the metal, "Strange metal."

"Strange how?" Rodney set his tablet next to him and leaned forward to look at the knife.

"It's strong and sharp, looks used often," Ronon handed the knife over to Rodney, "Blade's an heirloom, but it doesn't look like it's been sharpened for a long time. Most blades I've encountered require honing and sharpening after years of use."

"If it's an heirloom," Rodney turned the blade over carefully in his hands, "It's possible he's never…hmmm."

"What 'hmmm'?" John questioned.

"This almost looks like…" Rodney trailed off.

"Refined naquadah," D finished as Ronon started rewrapping her injured hand, "I was going to ask Major Lorne about that tomorrow morning when he returns. If it is naquadah and the Pulooy are willing-"

"It could solve a lot of problems for us," Rodney interrupted as he stood, "I'm going to take this to the geology lab now and have them test it. This could be a huge find. Naquadah is a major component in a lot of Ancient technology, including the Stargates themselves, but we haven't been able to find a source for it in the Pegasus Galaxy yet. They even used a naquadah-based alloy for the construction of Atlantis. This could make repairing the City go much faster."

"Sit down, Rodney," John tugged him back down to the couch, "It can wait until tomorrow. No work on movies nights."

"But-" Rodney protested.

"I'm sure Vaughn doesn't want her brand-new knife," John gave D an expectant look, "in the hands of the geologists without her there."

"Of course not. You know how the geologists are, Rodney," D replied smoothly as she held out her left hand towards him, "They'd need constant supervision for something like this and I couldn't possibly do it tonight, being injured and all. The painkillers Beckett's got me on are pretty strong. I might fall asleep in the middle of the lab and who knows what the geologists would do then."

"First thing in the morning," Rodney glared at D as he handed the knife back, "I expect you to meet me in the geology lab."

"Dr. Beckett's supposed to clear me for light duty in the morning," D nodded, "I'll be there at 0900."

"Fine," Rodney huffed and picked up his tablet again.

"Before you get all wrapped up in Wraith schematics," John put a hand over the tablet, "Start the movie."

"You're staying," Ronon finished wrapping D's hand.

"But I was-" D started.

"We're watching The Princess Bride," John interjected, "It's one of Teyla's favorites."

"The book was better," Rodney reached over to the laptop sitting next to him and tapped a couple keys. The movie appeared on the large hanging screen across from the couch and chairs.

"Books usually are," D moved from the floor to sit between John and Rodney on the couch, leaning over Rodney to set the knife on the small table, "As long as I get to look at the Wraith specs, I'll stay."

"I agree the book was better," John moved the popcorn over into D's lap so Rodney could grab a handful, "But the movie's pretty awesome too, so we're watching it."

"I've only ever read the book, so I wouldn't know," D looked over to John curiously, "You've read The Princess Bride?"

"He could've been in MENSA," Rodney snorted.

"I already knew that," D rolled her eyes, "and that has absolutely no bearing on him reading a classic book."

Ronon leaned back against D's legs as the movie started playing.

"Are you three going to be talking through the entire movie?" Teyla raised an eyebrow at them.

"Sorry," D ducked her head and leaned over to Rodney to whisper, "Move the tablet this way so I can see too."

"These are for the weapons systems," Rodney shifted closer as he moved the tablet halfway between himself and D, "I have the dematerializer specs on here too."

"Cool," D grinned as she looked down at the screen, "You figure them out yet?"

"Not yet," Rodney shook his head, "But I just started looking at them. We worked on the engine components while we were-"

"Shhh," John threw a piece of popcorn over D to hit Rodney in the back of the head, "No work talk on movie nights."

"This isn't work," D grabbed the kernel from Rodney's lap and threw it over her shoulder at John, "This is fun."

"Exactly," Rodney gave John a smug smirk as he grabbed a handful of popcorn, dropping several pieces into D's lap as he ate.

"You're both weird," Ronon dropped his head back onto D's lap, "Quiet."

"The three of you are getting popcorn on my couch," Teyla sighed as she moved from the chair to lay on the pillows with her head in Ronon's lap, "You _will_ be cleaning it up before you leave."

"Yes, ma'am," they all replied quickly.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

Elizabeth looked up as D stomped into her office, a stack of tablets balanced in her left hand as she muttered under her breath in clipped Russian.

"Dr. Beckett only cleared you for light duty, Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at the young woman, "What are you doing with all those?"

"Catching up on the two weeks' worth of paperwork," D dropped the tablets onto Elizabeth's desk, "that seems to have accumulated in the last five days. This is ridiculous. It's like these people have forgotten how to function without a bloody babysitter. I'm feeling a very strong urge to send a sternly worded email to all the department heads on their complete and utter lack of-"

"Have you been spending time with Rodney again?" Elizabeth interrupted as a grin spread across her face.

"Yeah, I was in the lab with him most of yesterday. Sign this," D nodded and pushed the first of the tablets towards Elizabeth, "I also got roped into watching Princess Bride with his team the night before last. He had the schematics from the Wraith dart with him that I wanted to see."

"Anything interesting in them?" Elizabeth entered her electronic signature and moved the tablet out of the way.

"Security reports. The things you need to be concerned about are highlighted," D handed Elizabeth the next tablet, "The Wraith dematerializer might prove useful if Zelenka's engineers can figure out how to reverse engineer one. Dr. McKay already assigned a group to look into it."

"Useful how?" Elizabeth skimmed over the security reports, noting the parts that D had highlighted, "Why didn't I hear anything about this incident in the mess?"

"The timestamp," D leaned over to point at the tablet, "Only happened last night and your meeting with First Sgt. Stiles isn't until 1430 today. He'll explain in detail then."

"All right," Elizabeth nodded and set aside the tablet, "The dematerializer?"

"If the engineers can figure out how to reverse engineer one using Earth-based materials," D scrolled through another tablet before handing it to Elizabeth, "We'd be able better utilize the space allotted on the Daedalus for both mission-critical and personal items. This week's requisitions. Nothing to be concerned about for once, which is shockingly pleasant."

"Do you think the engineers will be able to figure it out any time soon?" Elizabeth signed the tablet and put it to the side, "Being able to get more personal items here in the City would boost morale considerably, not to mention Major Lorne could quit sending me inventory reports about what he calls the 'woefully understocked' armory once a week."

"If the team is allowed to concentrate solely on this project, I'd say a month or so, but in reality it'll be at least two months. And Major Lorne is using polite phrasing about the armory, ma'am," D gave Elizabeth a flat stare, "Whether you like to acknowledge it or not, Atlantis is at the center of an intergalactic war that has been raging for millennia. And while I understand that this is meant to be a scientific expedition, if Atlantis came under attack, the scientists would be expected to defend themselves. Even if there were enough weapons and ammunition to go around, half of them have never fired live ammunition outside a range setting. They're more likely to hurt themselves than anything else. The military would have their hands full defending critical areas of the City and dealing with any intruders. Unfortunately, in this particular place, most of the people can be replaced, but the equipment can't. Usually it's the other way around."

"You've thought about this before," Elizabeth sat back in her chair to look up at D.

"Yes, ma'am," D leaned back against Elizabeth's desk, "I've spent a lot of time considering millions of scenarios involving Atlantis and the personnel here. Part of the reason I was so good at what I did before was because I think differently than the normal person. When I calculate something, I take into account factors that most people wouldn't even think to consider. I always have at least a dozen contingency plans in place for each part of my plans. The future of Atlantis is no different."

"So what would you suggest then?" Elizabeth asked curiously, "To improve security here in the City."

"Make weapons training mandatory for everyone stationed in Atlantis," D answered automatically, "As well as at least two forms of self-defense. Regularly scheduled war games involving all personnel, not just the military, both within the City and at a suitable Alpha site, using live ammunition at the Alpha site as much as possible. The armory needs to be tripled in size, _minimum_. There should be at least one handgun for every person stationed here and enough ammunition for each gun to take down a Wraith. There needs to be an increase in heavy weaponry and explosives of at least four hundred percent, especially since it takes so much effort to take down even one Wraith, much less a dart or a hive ship. The military personnel rotated here from the SGC need to receive additional training, ideally from someone like Specialist Dex, on how to effectively deal with the Wraith before they are allowed to step through the gate. The same goes for civilian training. Many of them still balk at carrying a nine millimeter for self-defense. There are only three companies of military personnel stationed here at any one time and a lot of them are concentrated specialties. Ideally, there should be an entire division, but we could make it work with a single, full battalion, leaving the three companies we have as they are now and adding two additional companies of infantry troops. There are people here who are irreplaceable, both civilian and military, which is a huge problem in a war-zone. Take out a few key personnel and you cripple the City's ability to function. Everyone should be cross-trained in as many disciplines as they can handle, especially the civilians. We're still too heavily dependent on Earth for mission critical inventory. We need to find a way to either manufacture or trade for important items so if we were to be suddenly cut-off from Earth, especially since they're now embroiled in a war with the Ori, the impact wouldn't cripple the City. I'm not talking about militarizing the expedition, just acknowledging the fact that we are in a warzone and need to act accordingly. The civilians need to be protected properly if we want them to be able to continue making progress with the technology here."

"Why haven't you brought this up before," Elizabeth wondered, "either with me or Colonel Sheppard?"

"You've never asked before," D shrugged, "and it's not my place to bring something like this up with the military command."

"How much of that is actually necessary and how much is you being overly cautious?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Most of it is necessary," D answered thoughtfully, "The cross-training should've been implemented the day after the expedition set foot in Atlantis. It doesn't cost any tangible resources, so it could start at any time. It really comes done to a matter of budget and whether the IOA will agree to all of it. With the right people in the right positions telling the IOA that it's essential to the continued success of the Atlantis expedition, we could probably get at least seventy-five percent of it accomplished within the next six months, the rest of it in the next year or so."

"All right," Elizabeth leaned forward and tapped her fingers on her desk, "Write up a proposal and schedule a special meeting with the senior staff to discuss it. What's on the last tablet?"

"A report from the geology department," D tilted her head to the side and thrust the tablet at Elizabeth, "They think the Pulooy planet has naquadah deposits. They want to send a team to check it out. Ma'am, what do you mean write up a proposal and schedule a meeting?"

"All your suggestions," Elizabeth accepted the tablet, "I'm sure you've come up with a way to accomplish most of them. Write it all out in a report so we can discuss it among the senior staff."

"But…" D ducked her head, "Isn't that over-stepping my bounds, ma'am? I don't want to offend anyone involved or make them think I know their jobs better than they do. They are only ideas and theories. I was only thinking out-loud."

"Why did you put so much thought into it?" Elizabeth asked carefully.

"Because this is the longest I've ever been in one place," D straightened the cuff of her uniform jacket over the edge of the bandage on her hand, "and I guess I kind of like it here. I'd like Atlantis to be protected as best it can be."

"Write up the report, D," Elizabeth smiled, "I'll deal with the consequences if there are any hurt feelings because of it."

"Yes, ma'am," D nodded once, "Should I speak with Major Lorne about scheduling a geological survey on M59-693?"

"Please do," Elizabeth scrolled through the tablet, "As soon as there's an available spot in the schedule. Tell them survey only until I get a chance to speak with Matriarch Otelia about this."


	29. Time

When John came into the briefing room behind Teyla, he heard a loud, mostly one-sided argument going on between Rodney and D. Rodney's face was flushed pink and D wore the half-annoyed, half-amused smirk she often adopted in Rodney's presence. Elizabeth was reading quietly from a tablet in front of her, completely ignoring Rodney's angry ranting, and Ronon was cleaning his nails with one of his ever-present knives, occasionally grinning at D's quick retorts.

"How long have they been arguing?" John asked quietly as he slid into the seat next to Elizabeth.

"Rodney showed up in my office half an hour ago," Elizabeth looked up from the tablet to sigh at the two of them, "I had to kick them out after two minutes. I think they've been in here ever since."

"The matter must be of great importance," Teyla arched an eyebrow as a string of foreign language that was clearly cursing left D's mouth, "for them to still be discussing it so…colorfully."

"Honestly," Elizabeth smiled wryly, "I quit paying attention once they left my office. If it's something important, I'm sure one of them will let me know."

"Any idea on how to make them stop?" John drawled, "This is supposed to be a mission briefing."

"I would suggest a bucket of ice water but I'm not entirely sure it would work," Elizabeth barely refrained from rolling her eyes, "and someone would have to clean it up afterwards. Dr. Vaughn."

D stopped in the middle of her sentence, turning immediately to Elizabeth, "Yes, ma'am?"

"Teyla would like to know what the two of you are arguing about," Elizabeth glanced over to John, "and the Colonel would like to know how to make you stop arguing."

"We're not arguing. We're having a discussion," Rodney insisted with a glare at D, "I came to Dr. Vaughn with a perfectly reasonable request and she's being completely irrational."

"Dr. McKay seems to be under the impression that I work for him in some manner," D's smile sharpened as she looked back to Rodney, "and that I am willing to take orders from him. I was reminding him that this is not the case and I am under no obligation whatsoever to do anything I do not wish to do for him."

"But Colonel Messy-Hair over there is too busy," Rodney flapped a hand in John's direction, "and Carson will have no idea what I need him to do and he's still terrified of the thing. I can't do it myself and monitor at the same time. Therefore, you are the next logical choice. I've seen the list of gene-users, Red. Your name is pretty close to the top."

'_Colonel Messy-Hair_?' John mouthed the words to himself and Elizabeth ducked her head with a grin.

"Why is it that you accept Sheppard's word that he's busy," D leaned back in her chair, "but not mine? I have a very full schedule, Rodney."

"This is more important than meetings and paperwork, Red," Rodney sat forward on the edge of his chair, "You know it is, so why are you arguing with me instead of just doing what I asked?"

"You didn't ask," D crossed her hands across her lap, "You barged in and demanded. I take orders from exactly one person, Dr. McKay, and that person is definitely not you."

"I-you-_what_?" Rodney gaped.

"Ask me nicely, Rodney," D spoke sweetly, "Say _please_."

Ronon snorted a laugh as Rodney's mouth opened and closed several times.

"You are the most," Rodney shook a finger at D, "_annoying_ person in two different galaxies."

"I'm pretty sure that wasn't asking nicely, Rodney," John smirked.

"I have to agree with the Colonel on this one," D flashed John a quick grin, "I definitely didn't hear a please anywhere in there."

"Elizabeth," Rodney gave her a pleading look.

"Don't look at me," Elizabeth held up her hands, "If you want Dr. Vaughn to do something beyond her normal duties, that's entirely between the two of you."

"I have found that asking politely will go a long way to getting what you desire," Teyla added.

"Dr. Vaughn," Rodney clenched his jaw and looked back to D, "Would you please find time in your busy schedule to come to the chair room to help me reroute the power distribution so we can streamline our power consumption in the City so we don't waste power from the one precious ZedPM we have?"

"I'd be happy to help you, Dr. McKay," D nodded and sat forward again, "I've already cleared a six hour block in my schedule four days from now, when you've returned from your mission and Carson clears me for full duty. Will that be enough time?"

"Why did you waste half an hour arguing with me and make me ask nicely," Rodney flushed again, "if you were planning on doing it anyway?"

"Because while good manners are important," D gave him a stern look, "I draw the line at neglecting the City to teach you a lesson. I hope you'll remember this exchange next time you want something from me."

"You-you…" Rodney spluttered.

"Give it up, McKay," Ronon slapped a heavy hand on Rodney's shoulder, "She won this round."

"I believe we have a mission briefing now," Teyla moved the tablet waiting on the table closer to her.

"Planetary report is in front of you," Elizabeth gestured to the tablets around the table, "One thing before we get started; you'll notice there that an extra senior staff meeting has been added to your schedules two weeks from now. The meeting is mandatory and the amount of time scheduled is not a mistake."

"An entire day was blocked off," Rodney frowned, "I have important projects I need to be working on. I don't have an entire day to spend in a meeting."

"Mandatory means you are required to attend," Elizabeth reminded him, "Tomorrow afternoon, each of the senior staff will receive an email with a rather large attached report that will be the topic of discussion for the meeting. Because of the size of the report, Dr. Vaughn has highlighted the individual sections that will be applicable to each of you. While you're not required to read the entire report, I do expect you to read those highlighted sections and be able to discuss them intelligently during the meeting. Feel free to consult any of your staff for suggestions and clarifications, but the meeting is only for senior members of the expedition."

"What's this meeting all about?" John drawled, "Sounds pretty important."

"Acknowledgment of our current situation," Elizabeth glanced over to D, who ducked her head to study her tablet, "and planning for Atlantis' future."

"What did you do now, Red?" Rodney sighed heavily.

D winced as she answered uncertainly, "Apparently, I think too much."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

Elizabeth listened as Rodney's agitated voice spoke over the radio, trying to understand the techno-babble that was spilling rapidly from his mouth.

"Rodney," Elizabeth interrupted, "_Slow down_. I can't follow what you're saying."

"We don't have time to slow down," Rodney insisted, "Sheppard is stuck in a time-dilation field on the planet. For every second we waste talking about this, _hours_ could be going by for him."

"All right," Elizabeth acquiesced, "Tell us what you need."

"Red, you there?" Rodney questioned.

"I'm here," D answered quickly, "Supplies?"

"Yes," Rodney agreed, "Several weeks' worth at least. And the engineers-"

"They'll meet you in the jumper bay," D nodded, "You have an idea yet?"

"Not really," Rodney admitted, "See if they can come up with something. Make them earn the paychecks for once."

"I'll let them know," D shook her head, "What else do you need?"

"Med team. Sheppard might be injured," Rodney commanded, "He said the portal was hurting him when he was trying to go through. There's Ancient writing by the portal too. I'll need someone to translate."

"Dr. Weir?" D turned to her.

"We'll go," Elizabeth decided, "You and I are probably best equipped to translate anything we find."

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head and turned to Chuck, "Sergeant, patch my radio through to the Quartermaster, all his on-duty staff, and all ready-room personnel."

"Yes, ma'am," Chuck started tapping keys, "I'll notify all on-duty engineering staff to report to the jumper bay immediately."

"And Dr. Beckett as well," Elizabeth ordered, "Rodney, you can fill Carson and me in when you get here."

"Two minutes," Rodney informed them.

Elizabeth heard Chuck begin paging people to the jumper bay and turned towards the staircase to see D waiting at the base, giving quiet, efficient orders into her radio. Elizabeth made her way up the stairs, D following a step behind as she gave continued to give commands. They made their way to the jumper bay where several engineers were already waiting and men in uniform were forming a chain to pass supplies into a neat pile next to a jumper.

"Let me know when that's done, Lieutenant," D tapped off her radio as she and Elizabeth came up to a slightly out of breath Zelenka.

"What's going on?" Zelenka straightened his glasses, "Chuck said it was an emergency."

"We're a little light on details until McKay gets back," Elizabeth replied calmly, "But from what we understand, Colonel Sheppard has been trapped inside a time dilation field on the planet."

Zelenka narrowed his eyes, "Faster or slower?"

"Faster," Elizabeth answered, "At least, that's the assumption we're working under right now."

"Does Rodney know the ratio?" Zelenka scowled.

"McKay didn't take the time to determine it before he came back," D shook her head, "But he's in a hurry, so we can assume that the ratio is pretty high."

"What does he want us to do?" Zelenka questioned.

"We need a way to-" D was cut-off by the jumper floor opening and a jumper rising into the bay, "Never mind, McKay can tell you himself."

"I'm here," Carson came rushing into the bay, "What's going on?"

"Colonel Sheppard got himself stuck in a time-dilation field," D informed him as the jumper's hatch opened, "Dr. McKay was just about to fill us in."

"Zelenka," Rodney stomped out of the jumper already clicking his fingers rapidly, "We need a way to get readings from inside a large time-dilation field without getting torn apart by the event horizon. The jumper's sensor readings can give you more specifics. There has to be a power source for a field that size. Figure out a way to locate and disable it. You have the amount of time it will take Red to finish packing the jumper."

"Ten minutes, Dr. Zelenka," D glanced over to the uniformed men already packing supplies into a second jumper, "I'll have the men ready to assist you with whatever you need as soon as they finish."

"Yes, yes, of course," Zelenka turned back to the gathered group of engineers, "We will find a way."

"Dr. Beckett," D turned to him, "You need to clear me for full duty effective immediately. I'll be accompanying Dr. Weir to the planet."

"But you're not fully-" Carson started.

"We don't have time to argue, Carson," Rodney interrupted, "Elizabeth is the closest thing we have to an expert in Ancient language in this galaxy and I need her to translate the writing. Red is freaky smart and might be able to find something someone missed. We need them."

"I can handle it, Carson," D assured him, "I've done more with worse."

"That's not the point, lass," Carson scowled, "But I won't argue this time. You're cleared to go off-world."

"Let's go," Rodney started walking quickly towards the door, "I'll explain the rest on the way."

"Leave your radio open so I can listen," D called after him, "I'll meet you back here in thirty minutes. All the equipment and supplies you'll need will be packed, so only worry about your personal items. I'll keep you informed on the progress here, Dr. Weir."

"Thanks," Elizabeth looked over her shoulder as she followed Rodney and Carson out of the bay.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Okay, I think we've got it," Elizabeth turned away from the stone inscription, "I am interpreting a bit, but it seems the field was designed as a sanctuary from the Wraith, a place the last of the Ancients could travel to and hopefully ascend without fear of attack."

"Oh, of course," Rodney agreed, "They could potentially spend entire lifetimes inside the field before the Wraith even discovered the place."

"And if they ever attacked," Carson nodded, "their ships would get torn apart just as the probe did."

"And so it has remained for ten thousand years," Teyla finished.

"This place wasn't just meant for Ancients," D ran her fingers over the stone, "but for anyone seeking sanctuary to follow the path to ascension. This inscription serves as a welcome as well as a warning."

"What's the warning?" Ronon questioned.

D turned away from the stone wall to join the rest of the group by Elizabeth's side.

"It warns that once you cross the threshold," Elizabeth said evenly, "there is no return."

"That is," Rodney smiled smugly, "unless you have the exact location of the power source and the expertise to turn it off. We may even get a ZedPM out of this."

Elizabeth tapped her radio, "Lieutenant, if you haven't heard from us in…Rodney?"

"Well, an hour would give us months in there, but, Elizabeth, of all the people who should stay," Rodney looked over to her, "it would be you."

"There may be writing be the power source that needs translating," Elizabeth pointed out.

"Red can translate it," Rodney flapped a hand in her direction.

"Dr. Weir is going, McKay," D shouldered her large pack, "Arguing wastes time."

"Lieutenant, one hour," Elizabeth looked at D curiously, "Then head back to Atlantis and see if Zelenka can think of anything."

"_Understood, ma'am_," the Lieutenant responded.

Carson looked around nervously from the log he was sitting on, "Well, he may need medical treatment and I'm the only doctor here, so I should probably just-"

"Carson," Rodney huffed, "it probably won't hurt so much if you just go through quickly."

"All right," Elizabeth let D help her into the straps of her pack, "Let's do this. Who's going first?"

"I'll go," Rodney volunteered, "It's sort of my fault we're in the mess, so I suppose it's only fair."

"I'll follow McKay," D looked over to Ronon then glanced back to Elizabeth, "Specialist?"

Ronon nodded, "I'll go last, make sure everyone gets through."

"Okay," Rodney shifted his bag uncertainly, "Here we go, I guess."

"Rodney," D put a hand on his shoulder and walked him towards the portal, "We don't have time to waste, remember?"

"I know. Give it a three count, then step through," Rodney scrunched his eyes up and stepped through the opening.


	30. Weapons

Elizabeth slowed her pace slightly as she half-listened to Rodney and Carson's conversation, falling back from the group as they made their way across the open field. D adjusted her stride to fall into step beside Elizabeth, looking over to her with concern.

"Did you want me to carry your pack for a while, ma'am?" D asked softly.

"No, I'm fine," Elizabeth shook her head, "I was just thinking."

"I'm sure the Colonel is fine," D glanced sideways at Elizabeth, "It seems he has a knack for surviving improbable situations."

"Thanks," Elizabeth smiled, "But that's actually not what I was thinking about this time."

"Ma'am?" D wondered.

"I was expecting you to protest me going through the barrier," Elizabeth answered honestly.

"This place has stood against the Wraith for over ten thousand years," D replied easily, "I'm supposed to protect you to the best of my abilities. This sanctuary is probably one of the safest places for you to be in the entire universe. If Atlantis didn't need you as leader and I thought you'd actually agree, I'd ask you to stay here."

"I'm not sure Atlantis _needs_ me," Elizabeth laughed quietly, "There are plenty of people who could do what I do."

"That's not entirely true though," D argued, "There are people that could do what you do, yes, but almost anyone else would think of Atlantis as just another job. Another posting until they go somewhere else. They wouldn't do your job nearly as well as you do. Atlantis is more than a job to you. It's…"

"Home," Elizabeth smiled softly.

"Exactly," D nodded, "Atlantis is home for you now. That feeling influences every other decision you make, both good and bad. How else do you explain a person who has advocated against weapons proliferation her entire life, a known pacifist, agreeing to have a meeting about living in a warzone? You realize that the City and the people who consider her home have to be protected. You know when to adapt, when to change, and when to hold firm. You're forgiving when it's necessary and unyielding when the situation calls for it. You listen to the people around you, but you don't let them dictate all your decisions. That's what makes you such a good leader and why so many people are drawn to follow you. That's exactly the kind of leader the City needs. Atlantis will thrive for many years under your leadership, Elizabeth," D paused and scrunched up her nose slightly, "That is, assuming Rodney wasn't exaggerating about being able to disable the power source in here and assuming the Wraith don't eat us all first and assuming I don't fail miserably at my job of keeping you safe and assuming-"

"I get it, D," Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "I think all that calculating of scenarios as made you into a pessimist."

"I'd consider myself a realist, ma'am," D stated calmly, "Life is messy and things rarely go as expected. That's why back-up plans exist."

"So what's the back-up plan if we get stuck in this place?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"Teyla will teach us how to farm," D gestured with her free hand, "Ronon will teach us how to hunt, Carson will teach us about alternative medicines, Rodney will figure out how to engineer running water and other such luxuries, and you'll teach us how to meditate so when we die we can ascend. We'll survive here."

"And you?" Elizabeth wondered.

"_Je vais apprendre à être un humain normal à la place d'une arme,"_ D whispered. [French: I learn to be a normal human instead of a weapon.]

"D," Elizabeth spoke sadly, "You're not-"

"You know, I was just thinking," Rodney raised his voice, "this entire field – I mean, not the field, I mean the _field_ field – must generate its own day and night cycle, not to mention its own artificial climate. I mean, it's incredible. When you think-"

"You wanna pick up the pace, McKay?" Ronon interrupted.

"Hey, he's waited for months," Rodney waved a dismissive hand, "Another half hour isn't gonna kill him."

"We don't know how long it's going to take to find him," Elizabeth pointed out as she quickened her pace to catch up to the group again.

"Aye," Carson agreed, "and besides that, I have a date planned with Lieutenant Cadman for tomorrow night."

"Oh, no," Rodney's voice was heavy with sarcasm, "so we've only got twelve years in here!"

Teyla set down the case she had been carrying and held up a fist as she looked towards the woods in front of them. Everyone stopped behind her, setting down their own cases and Ronon moved closer.

"What?" Rodney asked warily, "What is it?"

An animalistic roar came from the woods and Teyla aimed her P90 at the trees. Ronon pulled his blaster out as D unclipped her pack, dropping it to the ground to raise her own P90 and step in front of Elizabeth. Rodney immediately pulled out the LSD from his vest pocket, studying the screen carefully.

"I'm not detecting anything," Rodney shoved the LSD back in his pocket.

"Doesn't mean it isn't there," Ronon moved closer to Teyla, "Can you see anything?"

"No," a look of concentration came over Teyla's face, "But I sense something is close."

"There's nothing," D scanned the trees slowly, "No unnatural movement to match the sound. I don't understand."

"Maybe we should try another way," Elizabeth looked around the field.

They heard the roar again, this time louder and closer. Rodney and Carson both slipped their sidearms out of their holsters, moving to either side of Elizabeth.

"Won't make any difference," Ronon narrowed his eyes, "It's stalking us."

Another loud roar from a different direction made Carson look around nervously, "Sounds like more than one."

"Yeah," Rodney aimed his gun towards the woods, "More than one what?"

"I do not know," Teyla answered evenly.

The air shimmered in front of Teyla, reforming into a transparent beast twice her height as it roared. Ronon fired several blasts into the beast before it knocked him away, the blaster falling from his hand as he flew through the air. Teyla took a step back, D a step forward, and both began firing into what should have been the creature's body, joined quickly by Carson and Rodney. The bullets passed through harmlessly as the beast roared again. Teyla risked glancing at Ronon and saw him get to his feet, drawing his sword from the scabbard at his back. As he moved forward, everyone else stopped firing. Ronon slashed at the beast, but just like the bullets, his sword passed through harmlessly. The beast tossed him to the side again, roaring even louder. Teyla pulled a knife from her vest, lunging towards the creature only to be tossed to the side like Ronon. D stepped in front of Elizabeth again, quickly pulling the gun from the holster at her thigh and flicking the safety off as she held it behind her. Elizabeth took the gun from D's hand, raising it to aim over D's shoulder as the creature roared and started to move forward.

John came running from the woods, leaping onto the creature's back with a tight grip on his knife. The beast dissipated underneath him and John fell to the ground. Elizabeth shoved past D to go to John and Carson hurried over to Ronon, picking up the man's sword and sticking the point in the ground before offering the man a hand to help him up. D moved over and held one hand out to help Teyla to her feet, but kept the other firmly on her P90, black gaze scanning the trees once more.

"What the hell took you so long?" John exclaimed angrily as Elizabeth helped him up.

"Believe it or not," Elizabeth replied calmly, "you were only gone a couple of hours."

"Try six months!" John argued.

"You don't understand," Rodney stepped forward, "You've been trapped in a time dilation field."

"What?" John questioned.

"What was that bloody thing?" Carson asked anxiously.

"I don't know," John looked from Carson back to Rodney, "What's a time dilation field?"

"We need to get to a more defensible position before we start talking about the finer points of temporal mechanics," D's voice was eerily calm, "Ma'am, my sidearm please. Let's move."

Elizabeth nodded once, flicking the safety back on the gun before handing it back to D, who slipped it silently back into her holster.

"No," Teyla looked up at the sky, "It is still close."

A loud roar came from the open field behind them and everyone turned to face the noise. The beast was in the middle of the field and it had grown in size, now towering high above them as it roared louder.

John immediately stepped forward, knife held tightly in front of him, and Ronon pulled his sword from the ground as he went to stand next to John. Teyla moved forward cautiously, Rodney following slowly behind her. Carson moved closer to Elizabeth as D reached over and grabbed Rodney's vest, yanking him back towards Carson.

"McKay, Beckett, figure out what this is and how I can kill it," D whispered the order harshly, "Ma'am, when I tell you to run, head for the caves. Don't look back."

"You've fought this thing before?" Ronon glanced sideways at John.

"Twice," John nodded.

"How did you beat it?" Ronon questioned.

"Still haven't figure that out," John admitted.

"Now would be a good time," Ronon focused on the roaring beast.

"Yeah, well," John took another small step forward, "what'd you say we just fight it and see what happens?"

"_Malum consilium_," D swore under her breath as she moved to Ronon's other side, "_Fatuus_." [Latin: Bad plan.] [Latin: Idiot.]

"John?" Elizabeth asked cautiously, "Friends of yours?"

D drew her sidearm, shifting her stance to keep the P90 pointed at the towering beast as she aimed the smaller gun at the group of people emerging from the woods. She flicked the safety off as one of the men came to stand by John, but kept her finger against the barrel.

"We've come to stand with you," Avrid kept his eyes on the beast, "whatever happens."

"No," Teer came to join him at John's side, "We have come to fight," Teer looked up to the beast, "And we are not afraid of you. The Beast is of our own creation and it is long past time we sent it away."

Everyone except D lowered their weapons as the villagers moved past them to surround the beast. D merely let the P90 fall loose against her chest and switched to a two-handed grip on the smaller gun.

The beast continued to roar loudly as the villagers stared up at it. The beast threw its arms in the air and screamed a final time before it dissipated. Teer turned to John with a soft smile, Avrid and Hedda joining her as they moved silently back to him.

"That's it?" John asked incredulously, "That's all it took?"

"You were right, John," Teer spoke softly, "We were afraid. The Beast was the final burden we had to shed, manifest from our own fears. You gave us the courage to face it."

As the villagers behind the three of them began to glow soft white light, Teer shifted her gaze to D, who was still aiming the gun steadily towards her.

"You should not be here," Teer said curiously, "I could not see you before."

"I get that a lot," D's voice was flat.

"The weapon is not necessary, _Angelus Mortis_," Teer assured her, "I mean your Mistress no harm." [Latin: Angel of Death.]

"Your presence is unwelcome, _Virginis_," D growled lowly, moving her finger to rest against the trigger, "You can see what I do to violators. Leave or I swear to everything you find holy, I will empty this fucking clip into your head." [Latin: Virgin.]

"D," Elizabeth ordered, "Stand down."

"_Get_. _OUT_. _NOW_!" D demanded savagely, her hoarse voice breaking on the last word, "It is _not_ for you to see."

"I am sorry for your pain, _Angelus_, and I apologize for my intrusion," Teer turned back to John and held out her hand, "Come with us."

"I'm not ready for that yet," John said calmly, "I'm not sure I'll ever be."

Avrid and Hedda began to glow as the villagers behind them glowed brighter and began floating up into the air.

"One day, perhaps?" Teer lowered her hand.

"Yeah," John replied uncertainly, "One day."

"I'll look forward to it. There'll be no need to destroy the Sanctuary, Dr. McKay," Teer turned to face him.

"What? No-no-no-no-no," Rodney spluttered, "I wasn't thinking that, I was-"

"We will keep the portal open for you until you are gone," Teer interrupted.

"At which point the ZedPM which undoubtedly powers this beautiful place will be-" Rodney started.

"Sanctuary was left by those who came before us, for those who may seek it out and follow the path," Teer spoke firmly, "And it will continue to remain after you are gone."

"Yeah, but…" Rodney trailed off, looking to Elizabeth. She shook her head slightly and Rodney turned back to Teer with a frustrated huff, "Absolutely."

Teer looked back to John once more, a soft smile on her face as she began to glow like the others. She followed the light that was Avrid and Hedda before the three of them disappeared into the sky.

"What is it with you and Ascended women?" Rodney moved up by John and pointed towards where Teer had been standing.

John only gave a half-hearted shrug in response.

Ronon moved over to D and put a strong hand over the sleeve on her wrist, pushing her arms firmly down so the gun she still held in a white-knuckled grip was pointing at the ground before letting go.

"_Domina_," D sucked in a deep breath, "_Aufer meam sclopeta_." [Latin: Mistress] [Latin: Take away my guns.]

"Give me your sidearm, Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth moved forward slowly, holding out her hand, "Then stand still while Specialist Dex removes the rest of the guns."

D ejected the magazine from the gun, letting it fall to the ground before she pulled the slide back, letting the chambered round drop next to the clip in the grass. She carefully placed the gun in Elizabeth's hand before she raised her arms to interlock her fingers behind her head.

"Ronon, take the P90," Elizabeth ordered quietly, "and any other guns or ammunition you can find."

"Don't touch skin," D commanded raggedly.

D held perfectly still while Ronon unclipped the P90 from her vest, handing it to John behind him before he bent to undo the holster on her thigh. He let the holster fall to the ground before he began his efficient search of D's vest. He pulled all the full magazines off, then bent to lift her right pants leg and remove the small gun inside the holster wrapped around her calf, careful to avoid any contact with her leg. When he dropped the last piece to the ground he looked over to Elizabeth, ignoring D completely as he stood.

"The other weapons, ma'am?" Ronon asked calmly.

"No," Elizabeth shook her head, "Leave the rest."

Ronon stepped back and D lowered her hands to her sides, turning sharply on her heel to walk back to their forgotten supplies. She hefted her pack up, clipping it in place quickly before picking up as many of the cases as she could fit in her arms.

"I will meet you at the portal, _Domina_," D set a brisk pace across the field.

"What's with her?" Rodney wondered.

"Not your business," Ronon began to collect the weapons and ammo from the ground.

"Does _Virginis_ mean what I think it means?" John asked warily.

"It's a somewhat crude way of saying 'virgin' in Ancient," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

John cleared his throat, "Right."

"Well," Elizabeth handed the empty gun she held to Ronon as he moved past her, "The beard is interesting."

"First thing to go when we get home," John assured her, "Never thought I'd see any of you again. Kind of even…missed you a little."

"Yeah, well," Ronon shoved the full clips into one of the packs D had left on the ground, "It was only a couple hours for us so…"

"Ronon," Teyla chastised, reaching out to touch John's arm, "We were all quite worried about you."

"Of course we were," Carson nodded his agreement.

"We're just sorry we didn't get here sooner," Elizabeth smiled warmly.

John looked around at the group as a grin spread across his face, "Let's get out of here."


	31. Help

After D snapped at the third nurse that came near her, sending the woman scurrying away, Ronon moved over next to Elizabeth.

"She needs to be somewhere else," Ronon said quietly, "Let me take her."

"Post mission physicals are protocol. Dr. Vaughn knows that better than anyone," Elizabeth looked up at Ronon, "and, frankly, I don't think that you're the best option for her to be around right now, Ronon."

"She's going to hurt someone if you make her stay," Ronon crossed his arms across his chest, "D sees me as an equal. She knows I'm not a threat to her. She won't hurt me…much. I can help."

Elizabeth frowned and looked back to D. The red-haired woman stood rigidly straight, her back pressed against the closest wall, black irises that had yet to fade back to ash darting around the room tracking everyone's movements. Every time someone on the medical staff got too close, even Carson, her hand drifted down to her waist, clenching and unclenching rapidly until the person moved away.

"Fine, take her somewhere else," Elizabeth decided finally, "But I'm sending someone to get the both of you in two hours."

"We'll be in the gym," Ronon nodded and moved away.

He walked over to where D and seized her by the wrist, pulling her away from the wall. She snarled up at him and twisted her arm out of his grip. He grabbed the back of her neck tightly and marched her towards the door, his scowl clearing the path in front of them.

"Wait a minute," Carson protested as he rushed over to Elizabeth, "Where are they going? Dr. Vaughn hasn't been checked out yet."

"Did you see her?" Elizabeth asked softly, "If we'd made her stay, she likely would have hurt someone."

"What do you think they're going to do?" Carson scowled, "They're going to go beat on each other until one of them is bleeding or worse. Her hand hasn't fully healed yet. She shouldn't be-"

"Dr. Beckett," Elizabeth interrupted, "D almost shot an ascended being an hour ago. Teer looked into her mind and brought everything she's tried so hard to ignore up to the surface. She told me to take her guns away on the planet and the only reason she would have done that off-world if she was concerned she was going to hurt one of us. Every time someone gets close to her in here, her hand starts twitching for one of the knives I know for a fact she is still wearing."

"Good lord, Elizabeth," Carson exhaled sharply, "Are you sure sending her with Ronon was wise? If Teer triggered…certain memories in her, D may very well kill him."

"Ronon seems sure that he can handle her," Elizabeth said tightly, "And I don't know what else to do for her, Carson. I told Ronon he had two hours before someone was coming to get them. I have a feeling it would be best if it was you and me."

"Aye," Carson scoffed, "Along with a full medical team and a couple of stretchers. And a bloody security team armed with stunners."

"How about Marie and Teyla," Elizabeth suggested evenly, "with their stern looks instead?"

"I suppose that will have to do," Carson sighed wearily, "I'll let Marie know."

*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*

"Come on, Doc," John whined, "I've been here for hours. I need a real shower. And a razor."

"Sorry, Colonel," Biro chirped happily, "Dr. Beckett gave strict orders that you weren't allowed to leave until he had a chance to review your tests personally. You spent a good deal of time inside a time dilation field and we need to make sure it didn't have any adverse effects."

"How many more tests can there possibly be to run?" John questioned, "I've been poked and prodded within an inch of my life."

"The tests are completed, Colonel," Biro informed him, "We're just waiting on Dr. Beckett to review them."

"Where is Carson then?" John asked patiently.

"Dr. Beckett had a small medical emergency he had to take care of. He'll be back shortly," Biro patted John's arm, "Just sit back and relax, Colonel. Would you like me to get you something to nibble on while you're waiting?"

"Sure," John smiled falsely, "Why not?"

"I'll bring you some jello," Biro smile brightly over her shoulder as she left.

John let his head drop back onto the pillow and sighed heavily. He closed his eyes and crossed his hands across his chest, counting out prime numbers in his head to pass the time. He barely made it to quadruple digits when he heard a commotion in the hallway. He opened his eyes and turned his head just in time to see Ronon come limping in, supported on either side by Carson and Marie. Ronon's long-sleeved tunic was drenched in sweat and spotted in various places with blood, but none of it appeared to be his. Ronon was being careful about putting weight on his left leg so John got out of bed and hurried over to them, taking a grateful Marie's place and helping him to a gurney.

"What the hell happened to you?" John questioned, "You look like you got the crap kicked out of you."

"Helped," Ronon grunted as Carson and John got him situated on the bed.

"Helped, my arse," Carson scowled furiously as he tugged at the bottom of Ronon's sweat-soaked tunic, "Bloody barbaric version of helping if you ask me."

"You don't understand," Ronon winced as Carson pulled the shirt over his head, dropping it onto the ground.

"You're damn right, I don't understand," Carson swore harshly at the peppering of bruises across Ronon's chest, "How's beating the holy hell out of someone helping them in any manner?"

"You're a healer," Ronon laid down on the bed, "Not a warrior."

"Dr. Beckett?" Marie spoke from behind him, pointing towards the entrance when Carson turned towards her.

Teyla was supporting D with a strong arm around her waist, hand gripping the back of her pants tightly to keep her upright with D's arm slung over her shoulders. Elizabeth was on the other side, one hand guiding a semi-conscious D by a gentle grip on her wrist, the other holding a bundle of clothing and a black nylon belt with a small flat holster attached to it. D's head lolled to the side, her eyes heavy-lidded and blood oozing slowly from a split in her bottom lip. The plain black sports bra she wore exposed the numerous scrapes and bruises covering her chest and arms. The deep black-purple mass partially covering her right ribs was causing her to breathe in short inhales and ragged exhales. John moved to help, but Carson caught him by the elbow and shook his head firmly.

"Who else is on duty tonight, Marie?" Carson asked quietly.

"Ambrose, Biro, and Cole," Marie answered as Teyla and Elizabeth settled D onto a gurney across the room, "I can take care of everything except setting the broken bones, Doctor."

"D will eat Ambrose and Biro alive, even like this. Get Cole to set her hand and check her ribs," Carson ordered easily, "If she starts causing problems, don't be stingy with the morphine. Use local anesthetics only and don't sedate her unless there is no other option. She's an incredibly high tolerance for any type of drug. If you need help, get-"

"A female member of the staff that won't break into tears the first time Dr. Vaughn gets annoyed," Marie nodded once as she turned to leave, "I know how to deal with her, Carson."

"You can go over," Carson released John's arm and started towards a supply shelf, "but don't touch Dr. Vaughn. I'm not cleaning up any more blood on my floors."

John narrowed his eyes as he turned back to Ronon, "Why are the two of you beat to all hell?"

"I was helping her," Ronon glanced over to D.

"Helping her what?" John questioned, "Because you can barely walk and Vaughn's half-conscious with what looks like broken ribs."

"Not broken. Only cracked," Ronon shook his head and looked up at John, "Did break a couple fingers in her right hand though. My ankle's twisted a little. It'll be fine tomorrow."

"You didn't answer my question," John crossed his arms across his chest.

"It's not your concern, Sheppard," Ronon insisted, "I took care of it."

"It is my concern if a member of my team," John argued, "ends up in the infirmary and won't explain why."

"Not my story," Ronon responded as Carson came back over with an armful of supplies, "and not my secrets."

"Fine," John dropped his arms back to his sides and walked resolutely over to where Elizabeth and Teyla where standing.

"You are still here, John?" Teyla asked curiously, "I thought you would have left by now."

"Docs won't let me leave until Carson goes over my test results personally," John answered evenly, flicking his glance down to where D was looking up at him with wide gray eyes and slow, heavy blinks, "Which looks like it's going to take a while now."

"I see," Teyla looked between John and Elizabeth, "I think it's time for me to go see how Ronon is doing."

"Thanks for your help, Teyla," Elizabeth smiled briefly at the other woman as she left.

"He's mad at me, 'Lizbeth," D spoke quietly, her words slurring together like she wasn't altogether conscious, "'cause I hurt Ronon."

"John's not mad at you, D," Elizabeth gently squeezed D's wrist where she still held it.

"Is," D's lower lip trembled faintly, "That's his 'I'm mad but I don't want anyone to know' face."

"D, look at me," Elizabeth commanded softly.

D shifted her gaze to Elizabeth.

"Even if he is mad at you," Elizabeth brushed her thumb over the skin of D's arm, "He's not going to hurt you. He's not a threat, remember?"

"Still mad," D swiped her tongue across her lower lip and winced when she brushed over the cut, "That bitch wanted to fuck him, you know. Kissed him and everything. But he said no. Six months."

"I didn't know that," Elizabeth said evenly.

"How did you know that?" John questioned, the tips of his ears flushing pink.

"Once you open a door, you can walk through from either side," D sniffed, "People forget that. Did some poking around of my own while she was…while she…she saw…" D trailed off, sucking in a quick, pained breath and trying to sit up as her words cleared, "I need to go."

"No," Elizabeth dropped the clothing she was still holding to the floor with a quiet thump. She put a hand on D's shoulder and pushed her lightly so she fell back on the bed.

"I don't wanna to be here, ma'am," D pleaded softly, "_Ce n'est pas en sécurité ici_." [French: It's not safe here.]

"You're hurt," Elizabeth reminded her, "You've got cracked ribs and broken fingers, among other things. After they're taken care of, Teyla's going to take you back to your room so you can rest."

"Don't wanna rest," D shook her head, "_Si avertam oculos meos videbo ultra faciebus eorum_." [Latin: If I close my eyes, I will see their faces again.]

"I know," Elizabeth started stroking her thumb over D's arm again.

"All of them," D bit into her bottom lip and more blood started trickling down the side of her chin, "_Каждый деталь тиснился в мой мозг_." [Russian: Every detail burned into my brain.]

"_Теперь ты здесь, со мной_," Elizabeth said firmly, moving one hand to press it gently against D's cheek, "_Я не позволю, чтобы кто нибудь тебе повредил_." [Russian: You are here with me now.] [Russian: I won't let anyone hurt you.]

"That's not how it works, 'Lizbeth," D scowled at Elizabeth, her voice slurring again, "I keep you safe, not the other way 'round."

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder, taking the hand off D's face as she heard quiet voices approaching them, "We'll talk about it later, D."

"Evening, Dr. Vaughn," a woman with short blonde hair came around the gurney, "You remember me, right?"

"Dr. Allison Cole," D nodded once, "MD from Stanford, specializing in orthopedics, graduated top ten percent of your class."

"That's right," Allison smiled, "I'm going to take care of your ribs and your hand while Marie deals with the abrasions and bruises. Let's take you over to the scanner and see exactly what we're dealing with, okay?"

"Do I get a choice, Dr. Cole?" D asked petulantly.

"Nope," Allison smiled brightly, "and you can call me Ally."

"You should know, D," Marie moved around to the head of the gurney and stepped on the brake to release it, "If you make our jobs difficult this evening, I'm under orders to dope you up with enough morphine to make you think you're a glittery pink elephant."

"Carson's a jerk," D huffed crossly, "And elephants aren't pink. Or glittery."

"Just behave yourself," Elizabeth released D's wrist to pick up the clothes from the floor. She handed the shirt and jacket to Dr. Cole, then set the belt with the holster still attached next to D's hand. D moved her fingers to rest against the glint of silver metal as Elizabeth spoke again, "You're off-duty tomorrow. If I find out you're working in your quarters again, you'll be on light-switch duty for the engineering department for a month."

"You're mean, ma'am," D pouted as she was wheeled away.

"I'm not going to get an explanation," John eyed Elizabeth cautiously, "Am I?"

"John," Elizabeth sighed, "It's…"

"Complicated," John supplied, "Yeah, I get that. But a member of my team is in the infirmary after getting into a fight with Vaughn."

"Ronon volunteered to…" Elizabeth paused, obviously searching for the right words, "…to pull D out of her own head for a while. It seems that your friend decided to have a look inside D's mind without asking permission first. D's memory is full of..." Elizabeth frowned slightly, "The way she explained it to me was like having an interactive recorder inside her head at all times. She can recall with near-perfect clarity every single detail about any particular moment of her life; from the exact words someone is speaking to the approximate ambient temperature of the room. She quite literally can't forget anything that's happened to her. And considering some of the things she's experienced, that type of memory is less of a blessing and more of a curse."

"Okay, that explains some of the ridiculous skills," John responded carefully, "But I would've thought that you of all people would be against such a violent response."

"And normally you would be correct," Elizabeth agreed as she glanced at Ronon, "But in this particular case, I think the violence was inevitable. I let Ronon redirect it towards someone better equipped to handle it."

"Inevitable?" John questioned.

"Complicated, John," Elizabeth reminded him, "and private."

"Eventually you're going to have to tell me why you have a bodyguard masquerading as an assistant," John drawled, "who can shoot better than ninety percent of my guys and hold her own against Ronon in a fist fight."

"Who said she was my bodyguard?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him.

"No one outright said it," John shrugged, "but Vaughn's made it clear that if I upset or threaten you in anyway, I have to deal with her."

"You can probably guess what I'm going to say, Colonel," Elizabeth half-smiled.

"It's complicated?" John smirked.

"Exactly," Elizabeth nodded, "I knew you were a smart man."

* * *

**Special thanks to reader Zoja for fixing my Russian!**


	32. Hiding

Rodney walked into his lab, one hand clutching at his fifth cup of coffee for the day, the other holding the tablet that he was reading. He scowled at the equations in the report and made a mental note to yell at Hendricks at the first opportunity for his ridiculously shoddy math. He dropped the tablet onto his desk and slid into his chair then promptly squealed as he jumped up again, barely managing not to spill his precious coffee down the front of his uniform.

"Jesus Christ, Red," Rodney shouted as he set the cup down on his desk, "What the hell is the matter with you?"

D took one of her headphones out, setting it on top of the tablet she held before she looked up at Rodney from where she was sitting cross-legged in the corner underneath his desk. She wore an oversized long-sleeved black sweatshirt and slim black leggings with thick black socks. Her hair was in a thick, messy braid over one shoulder, a small black rubber band around the end.

"Did you say something?" D smiled politely.

"Did I-Yes I said something," Rodney spluttered, "Are you trying to put me in an early grave? You could've given me a heart attack. Is that my iPod?"

"You weren't using it," D waved the small rectangle at him, "and you have music I like on here. I can give it back if you want."

"No, it's fine. Just plug it in when you're done," Rodney scowled, "Why are you under my desk?"

"I had to adopt a policy of strategic concealment to deal with Dr. Beckett," D said seriously.

"You had to…" Rodney narrowed his eyes, "You're hiding from Carson under a desk in my personal lab?"

"I prefer strategic concealment," D corrected, "Carson keeps fussing over me and I'd rather be left alone. I escaped from my quarters while he and his evil henchmen were otherwise occupied. No one goes near your desk because all your minions are afraid of you and the military has been banned from this lab unless specifically invited. I snuck in while everyone was at lunch. I figured no one would find me here," D frowned slightly, "since you're supposed to be in the engineering lab working on the dematerializer."

"I just came back from lunch," Rodney waved a hand at her, "and that project is doing fine without me for the moment."

D raised an eyebrow at him, "Radek kicked you out again?"

"He didn't…yes," Rodney admitted with a sigh.

"I told you to quit insulting his parentage," D smirked and went back to reading the tablet.

"Exactly how long are you planning on being underneath there?" Rodney questioned warily.

"I'm in the middle of reading Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," D looked up at Rodney again, "After this is done, I plan on readingThrough the Looking Glass before I start on Bram Stoker and Mary Shelley."

"That's not what I asked," Rodney huffed.

"No, but it's an answer," D replied easily, "Elizabeth said if she caught me working today, I'd be on light-switch duty for a month and this is the only place I can be mostly positive no one besides you will find me."

"Who says I won't turn you in?" Rodney stuck his hands on his hips.

"Rodney," D rolled her eyes, "Don't be ridiculous."

"Why are you even hiding from Carson in the first place?" Rodney wondered.

D moved the tablet to the side, revealing the silver splint covering the last three fingers of her right hand, then leaned forward slightly into the light of the lab so Rodney could see the scabbed over cut in her bottom lip.

"I have two cracked ribs on my right side," D informed him, "three broken fingers on my right hand, bruises covering approximately seventeen percent of my body, and various abrasions and lacerations, including the one on my lip."

"Are you sure you shouldn't be in the infirmary?" Rodney asked cautiously, "You look like you should be in the infirmary."

"I've had worse," D shrugged and settled back into the corner, "And I don't like the infirmary. It smells like antiseptics. I'm okay here as long as my ribs don't get jarred."

"Fine, whatever. You can hide under my desk," Rodney agreed as he picked up his coffee cup again, "But you owe me one, Red."

"If you manage not to kick me for the rest of the day," D started reading again, "I'll make sure you get blue jello every day for a week."

"Lunch and dinner," Rodney insisted as he sat down.

"Lunch and dinner," D nodded in agreement.

"Wait," Rodney leaned back to look under the desk at D, "Why are you more injured on your right side then your left? And who beat you up in the first place? You were fine yesterday."

"I use my left hand for sixty-seven percent of my daily activities," D responded easily, "and my right for only thirty-three percent. I try to protect my left side more than my right when fighting so I'm able to function relatively normally while injured. And Ronon was helping me yesterday evening after we got back from the planet."

"Beating you up is helping?" Rodney questioned.

"He wasn't beating me up," D spoke quietly, "He was helping me express my feelings in a manner that wouldn't cause harm to anyone who couldn't handle it."

"Have you ever considered talking to Dr. Heightmeyer?" Rodney asked uncertainly, "Kate's usually pretty good at…you know…helping people express themselves or…whatever. Not that I would know from personal experience or anything. Maybe if you talked to her, you wouldn't have to hide from Carson because Ronon beat the crap out of you."

"Dr. Heightmeyer doesn't have high enough security clearance to know about me," D stuck the second headphone back in her ear, "Dr. Collins and Dr. Coleman are coming to speak with you. Try to pretend I'm not here."

"How do you…?" Rodney trailed off and looked over to the door the two scientists came in, having a quiet, intense discussion. He looked back down at D, scowling at the small smile that was playing around her mouth.

"Showoff," Rodney muttered.

*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*

"You're here," Rodney looked up from his tablet to stare at D curiously.

"Yes," D checked the large watch on her wrist, "This is when I'm scheduled to be here, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, but," Rodney shifted on his feet, "I figured since you were, you know, still healing and whatnot that you weren't going to show up."

"It's not like I'm lifting heavy objects or running laps, Rodney," D said easily, "If you made other plans, I'll go back to my reports."

"I was going to do it myself and have Radek monitor," Rodney moved away from the control chair, "but this is better. Sit, sit. You haven't interacted with the chair before, have you?"

"Basic initializing, like the rest of the ATA positives," D turned to sit on the edge of the chair, removing the splint still partially covering her right hand as she spoke, "Nothing complex."

"Should you be taking this off?" Rodney questioned as D handed him the splint.

"I need to be able to manipulate the gel pads. I won't tell Carson if you don't," D settled back in the chair and it lit up bright blue as it reclined, "We're just rerouting some of the secondary power systems, correct?"

"It's a bit more complex than that, but you should be able to do it with my directions," Rodney set the splint down next to the chair and moved over to the large monitor to plug in his tablet, "We'll go through some relatively simple commands first, just to make sure you know what you're doing before we move into the-" Rodney cut himself off abruptly as the monitor started flashing different diagrams, "What are you doing?"

"I told her I wanted to see all the power conduits," D answered absently, "She's talking me through the different power relays."

"Told her?" Rodney whirled around to look at D, her head tilted back and eyes closed, "She's talking you through?"

"Yes," D cracked open one eye, "Wait; is this another thing that no one talks about?"

"What thing?" Rodney watched the holographic images drifting above their heads, "You anthropomorphizing the City? Or the fact that the only person to figure out the chair faster than you was Sheppard?"

"I'm not anthropomorphizing, Dr. McKay," D closed her eyes again with a short sigh, "Apparently, Atlantis has a fairly elaborate AI system in place. The grammar and syntax the system uses are somewhat indicative of a feminine personality, which is why I used 'her' and 'she' to refer to the City. I've never interacted this closely with the City's operating system before…it's really quite fascinating. It feels like there's pieces missing though. Maybe something to do with the fact that we only have one ZPM instead of a full compliment. Or possibly because she was asleep for ten thousand years. The system still responds beautifully though, whether she's fully awake or not."

Rodney's hand flew to his earpiece, "Colonel Sheppard, Dr. Beckett, Dr. Weir, I need you to come to the chair room immediately."

D's eyes flew open and she sat up in the chair, but Rodney pointed an angry finger at her before she could stand.

"Don't you move," Rodney ordered.

"Should I not have said anything?" D asked quietly, "I didn't mean to-"

"You're not in trouble," Rodney flapped his hand at her, "I just need you here to find out if it's just you or if Sheppard and Beckett know about this AI thing and just completely neglected to tell me about it. In which case…"

"You'll yell at three people who have the ability to make your life and mine extremely difficult," D grumbled as she reclined in the chair again, "Ar fi trebuit să jucat prost și ținut gura mea închisă." [Romanian: I should have played dumb and kept my mouth shut.]

"What?" Rodney narrowed his eyes, "What did you say?"

"I said if I get yelled at by Carson," D scowled at him, "the jello deal is off."

"You can't renege on our agreement," Rodney protested, "You said if I didn't accidently kick you or give you up, I'd get my blue jello for a week. It's only been three days."

"You should have thought of that before you called Dr. Beckett," D replied evenly, "Radek's on his way. If you don't want him here for this, which given the ramifications of the City having an AI, you probably don't want that information to become public knowledge yet, you'd better call him and tell him you don't need him."

"One day you're going to tell me how you do that," Rodney rolled his eyes as he tapped his earpiece again, "Zelenka, this is McKay."

"Yes, Rodney," Radek's patient voice came over the radio, "I am on my way to the chair room now. I will not be late."

"Actually, Dr. Vaughn showed up," Rodney explained quickly, "So you can go do whatever useless thing you had planned for today."

"What I do is not useless, Dr. McKay," Radek insisted, "I was supposed to work on the Wraith dematerializer this afternoon. We are very close to figuring out how it operates."

"There you go then," Rodney huffed, "Go work on that. There's no need for you to come here. No reason for us both to be in one place."

"You called Dr. Weir, Dr. Beckett, and Colonel Sheppard to the chair room," Radek spoke evenly, "If there is a problem, I should be there to help."

D tapped her radio, "Žádný problém není, Radku. Rodney se jen zase chová jak umrnčaný dítě. Myslí si, že ostatní mě budou držet na uzdě." [Czech: There's no problem, Radek. Rodney is just being a whiny child again. He thinks the others will keep me in line.]

"Není ani trochu tak chytrý jak tvrdí, pokud si to doopravdy myslí," Radek laughed, "Hodně štěstí, Dr. Vaughn." [Czech: He is not nearly as smart as he says if he thinks that is true.] [Czech: Good luck.]

"Děkuji, Dr. Zelenka," D tapped her earpiece off and shook her head at Rodney as he did the same, "Remind me to never tell you a secret, McKay. Your deception skills are severely lacking." [Czech: Thank you.]

"Deception skills?" Rodney frowned at D, "Who even talks like that? And what did you say to Zelenka?"

"I told him you were being a whiny child," D smirked, "and that you called the others as reinforcements to deal with me."

"And he believed you?" Rodney huffed.

"Not only believed me," D agreed, "but wished me luck."

"I do not whine," Rodney protested.

"Yes, you do," D looked over as Elizabeth and Carson came into the room, "Afternoon, ma'am, Dr. Beckett."

"What's the problem, Dr. McKay?" Elizabeth asked cautiously.

"Why does everyone assume there's a problem?" Rodney frowned.

"It's not necessarily a problem, ma'am," D responded, "Although it has the potential to turn into one. It's probably best if we wait for Colonel Sheppard. He should be here soon."

"While I'm here," Carson moved over to pick up D's right hand, "and you're not hiding from me, let's take a look and see how you're healing."

D glared at Rodney while Carson started gently feeling the bruises on her right hand.

"That doesn't count," Rodney insisted, "He didn't technically yell. I still get my jello."

"Jello?" Elizabeth wondered, "What are you talking about?"

"I assume it has something to do with the fact," Carson laid D's hand down and gestured for her to unzip her uniform jacket, "that Dr. Vaughn has been hiding from me. No one on the medical staff has seen her since she disappeared from her quarters three days ago. Sounds like she's been buying Rodney's silence with jello."

"Deal's definitely off, McKay," D rested her head against the back of the chair as Carson felt along the right side of her ribs, "They're healing fine, Dr. Beckett. I haven't had any problems."

"All right, lass," Carson patted her shoulder, "Have you at least been taking the pain killers?"

"I've been making sure she's taking them on time," Elizabeth informed him, "She knows better than to hide from me."

"Just be careful using that hand," Carson bent to pick up the splint, dropping it into D's lap, "and that goes back on as soon as you're done."

"Yes, Doctor," D sighed.

"What did I miss?" John drawled as he came into the room.

"You!" Rodney pointed an angry finger at him, "Why didn't you tell me?"

* * *

**Special thanks to FF. net reader Auguruj for fixing my Czech!**


	33. Discovery

"Tell you what, McKay?" John asked curiously.

"About-" Rodney started.

"Rodney," D interrupted quietly, "Perhaps it would be better if you approached this in a more scientific manner. It's entirely possible that Sheppard has no idea what you're talking about."

"I _don't_ know what he's talking about," John insisted.

"I believe you have at least a general idea of why he called you here," D raised an eyebrow as she stood, "But I still think it would be better to do this methodically. Don't you agree, Dr. McKay?"

"I suppose it's better to keep them from getting influenced by your experiences," Rodney huffed, "Sit in the chair, Carson."

"Manners, Rodney," D reminded him lightly, "Dr. Beckett, would you take a seat please?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Carson hesitated, "I could cause all sorts of-"

"Carson, sit down," Rodney ordered, "You're not going to break anything. Just don't think about anything important."

"Thank you, Rodney," Carson scowled at him as he sat in the chair, "That's very helpful."

"What exactly are we trying to find out here?" Elizabeth wondered, "And how exactly is it going to be a problem?"

"A good question," Carson shuffled nervously in his seat.

"Do you remember that conversation we had a couple days after I arrived here, Carson?" D asked calmly, "The one about all the ATA positives that everyone knows, but no one talks about?"

"Aye, I remember," Carson agreed warily, "Elizabeth knows as well. I told her about it during the first year."

"Are you talking about the way all the gene-users experience different Ancient tech with different senses?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Yes, ma'am," D nodded, "Up until now, that interaction has been minimal, only basic instructions to things like lights and showers and partially identifying equipment."

"Up until now?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"This is the part that could become problematic," D turned to Rodney, "If I talk him through, can you record the data?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Rodney waved a hand at her as he turned back to the large monitor, "But I'll need the data from you and Sheppard as well to compare."

"Okay, Carson," D put the fingers of her left hand over the pulse on his right wrist, "Close your eyes and relax."

Carson looked down at her hand nervously, "You're not going to…do anything risky, are you lass?"

"I'm going to monitor your pulse," D stiffened and immediately moved her hand to hover above his arm, "Nothing more. If you'd prefer I not touch you, I can do so visually."

"No, it's fine, dear," Carson closed his eyes and reclined in the chair as it lit up blue, "I just wanted to make sure you weren't pushing yourself too hard while you're still healing."

D relaxed slightly, kneeling gracefully next to Carson as she pressed her fingers against his pulse again.

"Okay," Carson's voice was slightly strained, "What am I supposed to be doing?"

"Take a deep breath. Relax," D commanded softly, "You said you experience Ancient tech through smell, correct?"

"Yes, that's right," Carson smiled and some of the tension drained from his voice.

"I'd assume you interact with the Ancient scanner the most," D's voice was low and melodic now, "Think about how that smells to you. Remember the way that particular sensation feels in your mind."

"Got it," Carson replied calmly.

"Now, concentrating on that feeling," D looked over to Rodney, "Think about Rodney. What do you smell now?"

"Wait a minute," Rodney protested, starting to turn back around, "I don't sm-"

"Focus on the data, Rodney," D ordered as she looked back at Carson, "Concentrate on that feeling in your mind, Carson. What do you smell when you think of Rodney?"

A curious, focused look came across Carson's face as he spoke uncertainly, "I smell…dry-erase markers on a board and…strong, black coffee. He smells like…intelligence and…impatience."

"Good," D smiled brightly at Carson before she looked to John, "Now think of Sheppard."

"Salted air rushing past my face," Carson's voice became more confident, "and cordite – gunpowder, like the gun range after practice. A windy beach and protection."

"And me?" D asked steadily.

"Tainted copper feathers," Carson swallowed heavily but his voice stayed firm, "and the cold steel of a sharp blade. Blood-soaked wings and death."

"Now for something a little more difficult," D looked over her shoulder to Elizabeth, "What do you smell when you think of Elizabeth?"

"Elizabeth doesn't have the…" Carson frowned slightly then a wide smile bloomed across his face, "Oh, how lovely. I smell old books and…my mother's fresh baked biscuits. She smells like knowledge and comfort."

"You're doing wonderfully, Carson," D continued in the lyrical tone, "Now I want you to concentrate solely on the City. Think about Atlantis and tell me what you feel."

"I feel…" Carson paused for a moment, "I smell sea-salt, water, and smoke from the fire in my grandmother's old wood stove. Atlantis feels like the ocean and…_home_."

"Think about that feeling of home," D directed gently, "and ask to see a map of the secondary water filtration systems."

A holographic projection of a complex set of pipes and reservoirs appeared above Carson.

"What is that?" Carson wondered quietly, his tone gleeful when he spoke again, "Oh. _Oh_! She's alive. Amazing! She can…This is…"

"Not just me then," D released Carson's arm and stood, moving quickly over to Rodney's side to look at the information flying across the screen.

"What just happened?" Elizabeth questioned.

"The City is run at least in part by a functioning AI program. I guided Carson through the steps of a deeper connection with the City's systems," D turned back around and saw the careful bland expression on John's face. She narrowed her eyes at him, "You did know about her, Colonel."

"You _knew_?" Rodney spun away from the screen to glare at him harshly, "And you didn't tell me about it? Do you have any idea the implications of a functioning AI? This is-"

"A problem," John interrupted sharply, "If the IOA finds out."

Elizabeth looked between John's stony expression and the myriad of emotions warring for control of Rodney's features. Her gaze shifted to D, then flicked upwards towards the camera on the wall.

D reached up to tap her earpiece twice, "Lt. Kagan, this is Dr. Vaughn."

"_This is Kagan_," the response was swift.

"It seems like the security camera in the chair room is malfunctioning," D said smoothly, "It has been for at least fifteen minutes."

"_It has_?" Kagan responded carefully, "_How unfortunate. I think I can have some men down there to fix it in…what, an hour_?"

"Do you think the video from that time will be retrievable?" D asked evenly.

"_No, ma'am_," Kagan answered easily, "_It's a shame. An hour and fifteen minutes of video just vanished_."

"A tragedy. Have a good day, Lieutenant," D tapped off her radio and nodded at Elizabeth.

"Did you just convince one of my men to erase security footage, Dr. Vaughn?" John questioned.

"At my request," Elizabeth crossed her arms across her chest, "Yes, she did."

"Should I stay here?" Carson opened his eyes to look around at the tense people in the room.

"No, get up," Rodney flapped a hand at him, "I need Red and Sheppard to sit in the chair so I can record the data from their interactions too. This is a huge discovery."

"One that you won't be able to share," Elizabeth spoke calmly as Carson stood, "Not for a while anyway."

"What?" Rodney questioned, "Why not? An artificial intelligence program that's still functioning after ten thousand years is-"

"I'll go next," D interrupted with a quick look at Elizabeth, sitting in the chair as it automatically reclined, "I might be able to provide more details. If you would, Carson, my pulse should stay within ten beats of my normal resting heart rate."

"Fine, you can go next…again, whatever," Rodney started tapping on his tablet as he turned back to the monitor, "But no holding back. I need every little detail of what you're experiencing. And eventually, someone's going to have to record the data when I sit in the chair."

"Yes, Rodney," Carson rolled his eyes as he leaned over to press his fingers to D's left wrist.

Elizabeth motioned with her chin to the other side of the room and John silently followed her over.

"How long have you known about this, Colonel?" Elizabeth asked calmly.

"Since I sat down in the chair in Antarctica," John shoved his hands in his pockets, "I felt the AI there."

"I understand you not telling Rodney," Elizabeth's jaw tightened, "But this is something I needed to know, John. The ramifications of Atlantis having a working AI…"

"I know," John admitted, "But it wasn't really working here in the City until we plugged the ZPM in. I don't even think she's fully functional now."

"Explain," Elizabeth ordered.

"There's a certain…" John frowned slightly as he trailed off, "It's not like talking to a person. I mean, I can interact with the City, ask her questions, but she responds with sort of vague pictures or feelings instead of words."

"She?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "All three of you referred to the City in the feminine."

"Yeah," John shrugged awkwardly, "It-_she_…it's hard to explain."

Elizabeth rubbed a hand over her forehead, "This is going to be another headache I don't need."

"McKay's not going to let this go," John looked back to where Rodney was cheerfully typing away on his tablet as D spoke quietly.

"He's not," Elizabeth agreed, "and he shouldn't have to. But unfortunately, if the IOA gets a hold of this information…"

"They'll order Rodney to dismantle her," John winced, "Figure out how she works, how to control her or remove her program from the City's systems."

"At the very least," Elizabeth nodded, "I'd rather not see that happen. She's survived this long, it'd be a shame if we were the ones to destroy Atlantis."

"What do you want to do then?" John asked cautiously.

"I'll have D contact General O'Neill, let him know what's going on so he can prepare," Elizabeth decided, "She'll be able to get him a message without anyone knowing. He's got the gene as well, so he might be more understanding than the IOA. We're going to have to keep this from them as long as possible."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" John drawled.

"I'd suggest, Colonel," Elizabeth said calmly, "that we keep this between as few people as possible for as long as possible."

"And when it eventually gets out?" John questioned.

"Sheppard," Rodney exclaimed excitedly, "It's your turn. Get over here and sit down."

"We'll have to deal with that when the time comes," Elizabeth said quietly.

"Sheppard!" Rodney motioned frantically towards the chair.

"Keep your pants on, Rodney," John moved over to sit in the vacated seat.

"I don't suppose you need me to talk you through," D eyed Sheppard as the chair lit up under him.

"Nope," John leaned back and closed his eyes, "What do you need to know, McKay?"

"Carson smells things and Red hears things," Rodney consulted his tablet briefly, "What sense do you use for Ancient tech?"

"Is that really relevant?" John questioned.

"Everything is relevant, Colonel," Rodney insisted, "I need every single bit of information I can get my hands on. How else am I supposed to compare and contrast everyone's experiences?"

"He sees things," D moved over to stand by Rodney again, studying the information on the large monitor.

"I didn't ask you," Rodney frowned at her, then looked back at John, "Is that true?"

"Yes," John opened his eyes to look at Rodney and D curiously, "and when I'm in the chair I can hear things too."

"How do you do that?" Rodney stared at D, his mouth hanging open.

"I'd like to know the answer to that too," John drawled.

"I've been speaking with all the ATA positives," D answered absently as she took the tablet from Rodney, "about their experiences with the City since I found out about the different senses. The most common senses are smell and taste, with approximately forty-two and thirty-six percent respectively. The next common is touch with nineteen percent. Hearing accounts for about two percent, Major Lorne and myself, though from what Evan's told me, the things I hear are slightly more complex. However, that could be due to the fact that my senses are over-developed when compared to his. The remaining one percent was unaccounted for until recently, when I finally got a chance to observe Colonel Sheppard interacting with the City," D finally looked over to John as she handed the tablet back to Rodney, "Your pupils dilate at seemingly random intervals, focusing on sections of the City when you think no one is paying attention, then casually bringing up things that need to be repaired the next day. Whenever you need to find someone, you concentrate on a blank section of the City's walls. When you're in the control room, you look at the gate approximately one point five seconds before an incoming wormhole. And that's not even taking into account what happens when you're flying a jumper."

"What happens when he flies a jumper?" Elizabeth asked, desperately trying to hold back her smile as John shifted nervously in the chair.

"_J'imagine que vous avez déjà personellement vu ce regard_ particuler, Elizabeth," D smirked. [French: I would imagine you have personally seen that particular look before.]

"Never mind," Elizabeth flushed pink.

"What did she say?" Carson asked curiously.

"Nothing of relevance," D shook her head, "My point was: Colonel Sheppard accounts for the remaining percentage of the ATA population's senses by using sight to interact with the City."

"Does Sheppard count twice since he can hear things too?" Rodney questioned, eyeing D warily, "At least when sitting in the chair."

"What people experience while sitting in the chair constitutes an entirely different study, Dr. McKay," D insisted, "Are you going to start recording data or just keep looking at me like I'm a particularly complex physics equation?"

"Complex physics equations I understand," Rodney rolled his eyes, "You, I don't get. All right, Sheppard, do your thing. I need you to describe every detail that you see and hear while you're interacting with the AI."

"Dr. Beckett," D gestured to John's wrist, "Same thing, within ten beats of his resting heart rate."

Elizabeth crooked a finger at D as John and Rodney started arguing.

D joined Elizabeth across the room, ducking her head as she spoke quietly, "I apologize, ma'am. I should've known better than to say something in front of Dr. McKay. I was distracted by my interaction with the City and failed to anticipate his reaction."

"It's too late to worry about that now," Elizabeth sighed, "We need to focus on containing this and potential fall-out should the wrong people find out."

"Lt. Kagan is on duty in the security office this shift. He has the gene and he owes me a favor," D replied carefully, "He won't say anything about the missing footage. You might want to consider contacting Jack. He's in a position to do more damage control than we are at the moment, and considering the strength of his gene and the time he spent in the Antarctic chair, it's highly unlikely he hasn't dealt with the AI there."

"That's what I was thinking," Elizabeth agreed easily, "I know the two of you have been in contact since you got here. Is it possible for you to get a private message to him through back-channels?"

"Yes, ma'am," D nodded, "That won't be an issue. I've some ideas on what do to when this eventually becomes public as well. But I think the biggest problem we're going to have is-"

"Convincing Rodney to keep this quiet," Elizabeth looked over to where Rodney was now arguing with Carson over the top of his tablet.

"He's right, you know," D followed Elizabeth's gaze, "This is a major discovery within the scientific community. The prospect of being acknowledged as the person who figured this out, even if it stayed within the SGC, is incredibly tempting for someone who craves recognition."

"Any suggestions?" Elizabeth asked warily.

"Someone whose opinions he respects needs to sit him down," D responded calmly, "and impress upon him the consequences should he choose to make this particular discovery public. And he needs to experience the AI for himself. It'll help him understand she needs to be protected."

"Someone?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"Two someones in this particular instance," D clarified, "Colonel Sheppard and yourself. It'd be better if you spoke to him at the same time. And sooner rather than later."

"In that case," Elizabeth spoke evenly, "I'd like to ask a favor before our hour is up here."

"I'll distract Dr. Beckett so the three of you can have your conversation, ma'am," D sighed as she inclined her head, "I'm sure if I let him fuss over my injuries again, he'll be sufficiently occupied."

"Thank you, Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth smiled wryly, "Your tremendous sacrifice will be noted."

* * *

**Special thanks to reader LillyD11 for helping me with the French translations!**


	34. Mistakes

"You have improved greatly, Elizabeth," Teyla smiled as Elizabeth used a small towel to dry the sweat off her face and upper body, "I believe we can begin more advanced training next week."

"Thank you again for all your help the last two weeks, Teyla," D zipped her hoodie to the base of her throat, "I was worried I'd have Carson hovering around me for the next month."

"We could've put the self-defense on hold," Elizabeth looped the towel around her neck, "While you were healing."

"I told you that wasn't necessary," D shook her head, "A few minor fractures never stopped me from training before."

"It's going to now," Elizabeth slipped her earpiece back on, "Or-"

"You'll sic Dr. Beckett on me," D sighed as she slipped her own radio on, "Yes, ma'am."

"I am happy to help," Teyla laughed warmly, "If only so D can avoid the confrontations with Carson that she fears so much."

"I don't _fear_ anything," D protested as the three of them left the small gym, "I just prefer not to be poked and prodded more than absolutely necessary. Carson has a tendency to fuss over things that really aren't that serious."

"I think the two of you have very different ideas of what 'serious' means," Elizabeth said dryly.

"Different backgrounds I suppose," D shrugged, "Are you coming to breakfast with us, Teyla?"

"I would be happy to join you," Teyla agreed, "I have some time before I am to meet with Matie. He is accompanying Halling and Sgt. Stackhouse's team off-world this afternoon. Matie expressed an interest in seeing some of the marketplaces my people often visit."

"I saw that on the schedule," D smiled, "I'm glad the Pulooy have been getting along so well with the Athosians."

"And their crops seem to be growing well on the mainland," Elizabeth added, "Otelia tells me that her people are quite happy here."

"Indeed. We have all benefitted greatly from their presence," Teyla paused as she drew in a short breath, "Perhaps we should shower and change before we head to the mess hall."

"I second that," Elizabeth scrunched up her nose, "I smell like my high school locker room."

"Sweat is good for you, Elizabeth," D insisted, "If you aren't sweating during training, Teyla and I are doing something wrong."

"And the bruises on my ass?" Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "I suppose those are good for me too."

"Those mean you're making progress," D grinned.

"There are not nearly as many as when we began," Teyla nodded as they stepped into the transporter, "You are making fewer mistakes each session."

"Thanks," Elizabeth smiled as she tapped the panel behind her, "I think."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Going off-world?" John strolled up to Zelenka as the shorter man checked the last of his equipment.

"M7G-677," Zelenka sulked.

"That's the planet with all the kids, right?" John wondered.

"They're having trouble with their EM field generator," Zelenka grumbled, "and McKay has decided that I am the most capable person in all of Atlantis to fix it."

"Hey, don't worry," John grinned, "They're a great group of kids. You're gonna love 'em."

"My sister has a child," Zelenka frowned up at him, "He breaks things. He throws things. He smears things onto furniture."

"Colonel Sheppard! I need you up in the control room," Rodney looked down from the balcony above them, "Oh, you still here?"

"We're just leaving," Zelenka scowled furiously at Rodney.

"Hmm. Well, uh, do say 'hi' to the kids for me," Rodney clicked his tongue and gave Zelenka a quick thumbs up.

John's grin widened as he gave Zelenka another thumbs up before he went up the stairs. He heard Zelenka mumbling in quiet, angry Czech behind him. John came into the control room to see Elizabeth, Ronon, D, and Rodney standing around the large flat screen monitor that showed the long-range sensors.

"Two Wraith cruisers," Rodney gestured to the screen as John came to stand next to Ronon.

"How far away are they?" Elizabeth questioned.

"A day, maybe a day and a half," Rodney answered easily, "I've been tracking them for some time now, but, uh, the good news is it doesn't look like they're heading this way."

"Just passing through the neighborhood?" John drawled.

"Yeah, it looks that way. But I just discovered something rather curious," Rodney tapped the screen and the image zoomed closer on the two red ships.

"You didn't discover it, Rodney," D rolled her eyes, "Sgt. Campbell was monitoring the sensors and pointed it out to you. You interpreted the data."

"Whatever, semantics," Rodney waved a hand at the screen, "Short but intense energy bursts passing between them."

"They're fighting each other?" Ronon asked cautiously.

"Hmm. In my, uh, expert opinion," Rodney turned to glare at D haughtily, "yes."

"That's good news," John stated.

"Certainly is," Elizabeth agreed, "If there's any change in course at all, let me know."

"I'll have Chuck patch the sensors to my tablet," Rodney nodded, "so I can keep an eye on them without having to stay here."

"Just make sure you're back in time for the dial-out to Earth," Elizabeth ordered easily. She turned to D, "Dr. Vaughn, I believe we're still missing a few reports and at least three requisition forms haven't been turned in."

"I'll contact the appropriate people, ma'am," D inclined her head, "Remind them."

"Nicely, D," Elizabeth commanded firmly.

"I'm always nice, Elizabeth," D protested.

"Tell that to my ass," Elizabeth mumbled as she walked past, "I'll be in my office."

D snorted before she turned to look up at Ronon, "Want to come with me to remind the scientists they have reports to finish? She didn't say anything about you having to be nice."

"Sure," Ronon grinned.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"I just gave Rodney the last of the files for the status report, ma'am," D came into Elizabeth's office, "He's starting the data compression now."

"Good," Elizabeth stood from her desk, "I included a short report about the infighting that appears to have started among the Wraith. Hopefully, they'll be too busy with each other to worry about the rest of the galaxy for a while."

"It's possible," D agreed as Elizabeth came out from behind her desk, "But eventually someone's going to win. Did Teyla stop by to talk to you before she and Dr. Beckett left?"

"She did," Elizabeth nodded sadly, "I hope it's nothing too serious. Charin is a sweet woman and I know Teyla's very close to her."

"Elizabeth, get out here!" Rodney's loud, worried voice echoed from the control room.

Elizabeth hurried across the short walkway, D following closely behind. Elizabeth stopped in front of the DHD console, but D moved to stand behind Rodney, looking over his shoulder at the laptop in front of him.

"Is this transmission authentic, Dr. McKay?" D asked evenly.

"Yes," Rodney paled slightly, "Relayed from the SGC via the Daedalus just now."

"What?" Elizabeth questioned, "What's the problem?"

"There's a b-" Rodney stopped abruptly when D clamped a hand onto his shoulder.

"Ma'am, I think you should read it for yourself," D met Elizabeth's eyes as she released Rodney and stepped to the side to make room for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth walked around the console and leaned down to read the laptop screen. As she straightened again, she turned to D.

"I see," Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.

"Ma'am," D glanced around the busy control room.

"In my office," Elizabeth gestured, "McKay, get Sheppard up here please. And Ronon."

"Yeah," Rodney reached up to tap his earpiece as D followed Elizabeth into her office.

The glass door slid shut behind D and she moved to the center of the room, clasping her hands behind her back as she stood rigidly at attention in front of Elizabeth.

"Ask," D said simply.

"Do I need to?" Elizabeth questioned evenly.

"You want to," D spoke quietly, "Truth and trust, ma'am. I promised to answer all your questions honestly. Ask."

Elizabeth straightened, "Did you plant a bomb somewhere in Atlantis, Dr. Vaughn?"

"No, ma'am, I did not," D answered steadily.

"Do you know who did?" Elizabeth asked firmly.

"Not yet, ma'am, but I will," D lifted her chin slightly.

"All right," Elizabeth nodded once, "I believe you."

"With respect, ma'am," D continued cautiously, "You haven't asked the question that you really want to the answer to."

"I have all the answers I need," Elizabeth insisted.

"But not all the ones you want, ma'am," D countered softly, "Ask."

"Is this our fault?" Elizabeth's voice was barely loud enough to be heard, "Is the City in danger because you didn't kill me? Because we both ran away to Atlantis? Are we responsible for putting the people here in danger?"

"Yes, ma'am," D stepped forward to take both Elizabeth's wrists in a soft grip, "I think the Trust might have finally decided that destroying Atlantis, the gateway to Earth, in order to stop the Wraith from getting to the Milky Way is their only option. You've managed thwart them at every turn. You've enough influence to keep people you trust in key positions. You've enough moral fortitude to never bow to someone else's demands of greed. You're enough compassion to give a killer, a monster by all rights doesn't deserve it, a second chance. I denied them their best chance of getting a hold of Atlantis and her technology, so they've decided if they can't have it, no one will. I denied them the prospect of having their people in key positions at the SGC and Homeworld Security. But there's an upside to all this as well."

"Really?" Elizabeth tipped her head down, laughing bitterly, "Because it doesn't sound like it."

D leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Elizabeth's gently, "The upside is; all those qualities that make the Trust hate you, make them want you dead, are the exact same qualities that make everyone here so loyal to you. So, yes, it's our fault, but not for the reasons you think. It's your fault because you are too good a person and they weren't able to corrupt you like they have so many others. It's my fault because I failed my mission and ran away to hide. That's the difference between the two of us."

"I'm pretty sure you're just trying to reassure me," Elizabeth closed her eyes, "You make me sound so perfect."

"You're also a stubborn," D continued easily, "demanding, workaholic who cares more for everyone else around her than she does her own well-being. No one is perfect, Elizabeth. Not even you. Have faith in those around you and let us help you figure this out."

"Us?" Elizabeth opened her eyes again, leaning back to meet D's determined gaze, "Or you?"

"I _will_ figure this out, ma'am," D squeezed Elizabeth's wrists gently before releasing her, "They just made their second mistake."

"Second mistake?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Yes, ma'am," a predatory smile spread across D's face, "Their first mistake was assigning your termination order to me and thinking I wouldn't question the simplicity of the mission. The second mistake was being impatient enough that they actually thought blowing up Atlantis was a good idea."

"Are you enjoying this, Dr. Vaughn?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, yes, ma'am," D's smile didn't dim in the slightest, "We're playing by my rules now. I may not be able to understand the intricacies of negotiating for grain or grasp the concept of fun by social interaction, but this – this is a hunt and I am very, _very_ good at hunting people, Elizabeth. One mistake is enough for me to catch an enemy. Two is enough for me to annihilate them."

"I want the person responsible alive for questioning," Elizabeth spoke evenly, "and relatively unharmed. I want you to bring them to me when you find them, not take matters into your own hands. Is there any chance you would accept help with your...hunt?"

"There are only four people in Atlantis I am one hundred percent positive are not currently involved with the Trust, ma'am," D looked over her shoulder to see John, Rodney, and Ronon approaching Elizabeth's office, "Ronon, Teyla, you, and me. I work best alone."

"You'll have to learn to trust sometime," Elizabeth replied quietly as the glass door slid open.

"Are we interrupting something?" John looked between the two women.

"No," Elizabeth shook her head, "Did Rodney fill you in?"

"I got the highlights," John nodded, "The Trust planted a bomb in the City."

"McKay," D held out her left hand, "I need the marker in your pocket, please."

"What?" Rodney took a small step back, "How did you…?"

D stepped forward, ignoring Rodney's squeak of protest as she reached into his pants pocket to withdraw the black dry-erase marker. She rolled one of the chairs over to the furthest glass window before she stepped onto the chair and uncapped the marker.

"I'm going to borrow your windows for a while, ma'am," D spoke absently as she began to write symbols at the top right corner, "_Je vais le nettoyer quand je suis fait_." [French: I'll clean it up when I'm done.]

"_Bonne chasse_, D," Elizabeth looked over to Rodney, who was staring up at D oddly, "Dr. McKay." [French: Happy hunting.]

"What?" Rodney looked back to Elizabeth, "Oh, right. We need to disconnect the ZedPM and switch to back-up naquadah generators to prevent any possible dialing of the gate to Earth."

"I agree," Elizabeth moved back around behind her desk to sit down, "In fact, as of this moment, all gate activity should be suspended. How many off-world teams do we have out there?"

"Just Zelenka and his team on M7G-677," Rodney answered quickly.

"Well, unfortunately he's gonna have to sit tight until we sort this thing out," Elizabeth said.

"Stuck with all those kids," John smirked as he sat in the remaining chair in front of the desk.

"Is the Daedalus still in range to relay a data transmission back to SGC?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Yes," Rodney consulted his tablet briefly, "They are, uh, holding a position that keeps them in range of both Earth and us."

"Okay, good," Elizabeth nodded, "Send a message saying we received their warning and aborted the dialing."

"Ask them if they can give us a little more than just 'there's a bomb in Atlantis'," John added.

D spoke in a quiet language that Elizabeth couldn't quite identify as she moved the chair to the side, stepping off without pausing in her writing on the glass.

"Maybe the Trust thinks the only way to ensure the Wraith don't get to the Milky Way," Elizabeth suggested carefully, "is to blow up Atlantis."

"Well, it's drastic but effective," Rodney agreed easily.

"What's worse is the Trust operative who planted the bomb probably did so under orders from the Goa'uld," Elizabeth stated evenly.

"What?" Rodney exclaimed.

"When did the Goa'uld get involved in this?" John questioned.

"What's a Goa'uld?" Ronon asked curiously.

"It's a slimy, snake-like alien creature," John explained, "burrows into people's heads and takes control of their bodies."

"That doesn't sound pleasant," Ronon replied.

"It isn't," John crossed his arms over his chest, "I've read enough SG mission reports to know I don't want anything to do with them."

"I want you to organize some teams to do a search of the city," Elizabeth ordered, "Start with obvious sabotage points, power distribution centers…"

"I'll check primary and secondary systems for any anomalous energy readings that might indicate the presence of an explosive device," Rodney offered.

"_Il est peu probable qu'il y ait une véritable bombe_," D stepped up on the chair again as she moved it to the next window, the first one filled now completely with symbols and numbers, "_Mais je voudrais quand même une copie de ces données_." [French: It's unlikely there is an actual bomb.] [French: But I'd still like a copy of that data.]

"How long is she going to go 'A Beautiful Mind' all over your office?" Rodney gestured toward D.

"Until she finds what she's looking for," Elizabeth responded calmly, "Copy all your data to Dr. Vaughn's tablet, please."

"Cadman can assist you," John looked up at Rodney, "She's a bomb expert."

"She is?" Rodney shifted uncomfortably.

"She's one of the best," John smirked, "She'll be a big help."

"Good," Elizabeth ignored Rodney's grimace, "Ask Colonel Caldwell to return to Atlantis to assist with the investigation."

"Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa," Rodney protested, "If the Daedalus returns here, then you're effectively cutting off our communication with Earth."

"Yes, I understand that," Elizabeth agreed, "but if the person who planted the bomb is on board, we're going to need to question them here – have them reveal the location of the bomb and how to dismantle it. All right, let's get moving."

* * *

**Special thanks to reader LillyD11 for helping me with the French translations!**


	35. Checkers and Chess

"_Did I just hear right_?" John's wary voice came over the radio, "_The gate dialed by itself_?"

"Uh, yes, it tried to dial Earth," Elizabeth answered nervously, looking across the control room as D emerged from her office.

"Whoever planted the bomb must have devised a program to upload itself," Rodney responded, "and automatically dial the gate as backup in case the first dialing was halted."

"A very good thing you pulled the ZPM," Elizabeth smiled tightly at Rodney.

"Rodney?" Cadman looked up from the laptop in front of her.

"What?" Rodney huffed.

"The transmitter," Cadman gestured to the screen.

"Oh no!" Rodney hurried over to another console.

"What now?" Elizabeth questioned.

"We just started broadcasting a distress beacon," Rodney explained quickly as he started pressing keys, "The gate dialed itself in order to draw our attention away from the transmitter!"

"_Turn it off_," John ordered.

"I am," Rodney finished typing and looked up at the screen again, "The damage is already done. The two Wraith cruisers I was monitoring – they've-they've-they've-they've picked up the beacon, they've altered their course, they're headed straight for Atlantis."

"_I'm almost there_," John spoke calmly.

"Laura, move," D waved a hand at the other woman, sitting in the chair she vacated.

"Dr. Vaughn?" Elizabeth questioned cautiously as D began typing quickly on the laptop, "Progress?"

"Yes, ma'am," D answered vaguely without looking away from the data now running rapidly across the screen, "This helps."

Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest, watching for a minute as D studied the laptop before she asked impatiently, "Can you be more specific?"

"In a minute, ma'am," D nodded and stood, walking back to Elizabeth's office.

"What exactly is she doing, Elizabeth?" Rodney asked warily.

"Her job," Elizabeth turned around as John came jogging up the steps, "How long before the cruisers get here, Dr. McKay?"

"A day, maybe a day and a half," Rodney looked back to the screen showing the two red dots, "depending on if they need to make a hyperspace pause along the way. We'll need to cloak the City again."

"Even cloaked," Elizabeth replied, "the Wraith are going to wonder where the beacon came from."

"Well, then, we need a ruse. Umm…" Rodney paused shortly, then started clicking his fingers rapidly, "We'll take a transmitter and dump it along with some charred rubble on a beach on the mainland, and they'll think it's jetsam that washed up when the city exploded during the siege."

"Hang on, back up a second," John rested his hands against the P90 strapped to his vest, "Let me get this straight. You think our bomb guy did this?"

"Yes," Rodney nodded, "It'd be easy for him to figure out that the Wraith were in the area. We've been tracking them for a while now."

"So he gets the gate to dial by itself in order to distract us so he can broadcast a distress beacon that'll be picked up by-" John began.

"-by the Wraith, yes, I believe so," Rodney finished.

"Okay, why?" John questioned.

"Because it forces your hand," D came back into the control room, "Is the Daedalus on its way back, ma'am?"

"Yes," Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at D, "What do you mean it forces my hand?"

"I've a profile for you, ma'am," D gestured towards Elizabeth's office.

"Lt. Cadman, continue your search please," Elizabeth ordered as started towards her office, "Sheppard, McKay, with me."

Elizabeth, John, and Rodney followed D back into Elizabeth's office, turning to face the marker-covered windows as the glass door slid shut.

"All right, what are we looking at?" Elizabeth asked.

"Data points, ma'am," D answered easily, "Each line represents a different set of variables that have lead up to this situation. The three of you are playing the wrong game."

"This isn't a game, Dr. Vaughn," John scowled.

"Maybe not to you, Colonel," D smirked, "But that's because you're playing checkers when your opponent is playing chess."

"And what game are you playing, Red?" Rodney questioned, waving a hand at the windows, "What language is all this stuff in? How are we supposed to read it?"

"I'm playing Go, Doctor," D's smile widened and she turned back glass, "This is a combination of Hebrew and Arabic and you don't need to read it. There's no physical bomb. The explosion will come from the City itself."

"How certain are you of that?" Elizabeth stepped forward to study the symbols.

"Approximately eighty-nine point nine, ma'am," D pointed to a set of squiggles on the first window, "The number of people involved in smuggling the amount of explosives it would take to destroy the City would not have gone unnoticed. The black market here is operated by a small handful of people, all of whom I've cleared. Even with a ten percent margin for error," D pointed to the second window, "the inventory reports over the last six months indicate the same thing – not enough explosives missing. The personnel responsible for those reports have been similarly cleared. Even taking into account the cultivation of the exploding plants from M4G-610 and the possibility of using the naquadah generators to enhance the explosion…there's not enough to make a significant impact in Atlantis' architecture. Six months is simply not enough time for there to be a physical bomb anywhere and ensure the destruction of the City to the point that it is unsalvageable."

"How do you know they haven't been planning this for longer than six months?" Rodney frowned, "They could've had the supplies stockpiled and ready for when we reconnected to Earth. It couldn't be that difficult for the Trust to smuggle what they need into the City."

"This is their back-up plan," D glanced at Elizabeth, "and it's only been in place since the first return trip the Daedalus made from Earth. When their primary and secondary plans failed, they had to come up with another option. I'm assuming they chose blowing up the City as a last resort, since they were so desperate to get their hands on the technology before now."

"So no bomb?" Elizabeth asked thoughtfully.

"No physical bomb," D agreed, "But an explosion is still the most likely scenario. There are dozens of pieces of technology that _could_ destroy the City and those are just the ones we've discovered. However, with this latest development, I believe the most likely scenario is something to do with the ZPM."

"How so?" Rodney studied D curiously.

"What was the point of transmitting our location to the Wraith?" D looked at the three of them, "What could that possibly accomplish? It's doubtful they're trying to destroy the ships. Even if the person we're looking for figured out a way to activate the self-destruct without us knowing, the possibility of them knowing exactly when the Wraith ships would arrive is remarkably slim. And if they were able to figure that out, destroying two hive ships is hardly enough to make a dent in the dozens of Wraith ships in the quadrant of Pegasus alone. So why bother?"

"So we'd have no choice but to cloak the City," Elizabeth spoke cautiously, "Which we would need the ZPM to do."

"To _make_ us plug in the ZedPM," Rodney concluded, "Whoever the bomber is must have tampered with it – made it so it will explode or overload in some way when we cloak."

"And now you're playing the right game, Rodney," D smirked at him before she turned back to Elizabeth, "Assuming that's the plan, I can give you a fairly accurate profile of who you're looking for, ma'am."

"Okay," John drawled, "Who are we looking for?"

"You're looking for Rodney with an attitude problem," D smiled widely.

"Hey!" Rodney protested.

"You're most likely looking for a male," D explained, pointing to the farthest window, "While this isn't an actual bomb, I'd still consider it a bombing, and with a few notable exceptions, explosive crime is still a male-dominated field. I wouldn't discount a female entirely, but they'd have fit the rest of the profile exactly. I'd say you're looking for someone a bit older, forty to fifty-five. Someone in a leadership position, but not an important one, possibly a minor department head. He'd have to have a certain level of authority and experience to be able to pull something like this off right under your noses. Not necessarily intelligent, but thinks he is or has the complete trust of someone intelligent. You're looking for someone with a superiority complex; he thinks he is better than everyone else and he's more than a little vain. You're looking for someone arrogant just up to the point of being disrespectful. Someone who doesn't enjoy following orders, but does because there is no other choice," D's words slowed as she looked between the writing on the door and the window next to it, "Someone who has the technical…expertise to tamper…with…"

Elizabeth looked over to D as she trailed off, "Problem, D?"

D scowled slightly at the markings, stepping over the door to erase part of three lines near the top with her finger, then moving window to the left to erase two more lines in the center.

"Oh," D hummed to herself, moving to the first window to erase a set of symbols near the bottom, "You clever, clever boy."

"Dr. Vaughn?" Elizabeth tapped D on the shoulder to get her attention.

"Hmmm?" D looked away from the squiggles.

"Is there a problem?" Elizabeth asked carefully.

"Nope," D shook her head as she turned to John and Rodney, "Just something interesting. Someone who has the technical expertise to tamper with the ZPM without anyone noticing. You're also probably looking for someone on the Daedalus. Anyone who fits this profile would want to be far away from the City when it exploded."

"That narrows it down," Elizabeth looked at Rodney, "Dr. McKay, figure out exactly what this person did to the ZPM and see if you can come up with a way to fix it."

"I want my guys to finish their search," John added, "Just in case Vaughn's wrong about there not being a bomb."

"I agree," Elizabeth nodded, "Dr. Vaughn and I will start-"

"Actually, Elizabeth," D interrupted, "I have a few things I need to take care of. You should be able to locate anyone with the appropriate profile by looking at the personnel files."

"Things more important than finding a Trust operative?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"I wanted to check a few more details, ma'am," D replied smoothly, "I'm hoping to narrow down the profile further."

"All right," Elizabeth agreed warily, "I'll start going through the personnel files to find anyone who matches this profile."

"Contact me when the Daedalus arrives," D looked at the writing-covered windows once more, the dangerous smile spreading across her face again as she waved a hand over the control panel to open the door, "I'm going to go grab something to clean this off before I forget."

"Why does it seem like she's happy about this whole situation?" Rodney frowned after D as she left.

"High-risk threat assessment," John looked at Elizabeth thoughtfully, "Vaughn's done this before."

"Not this exactly," Elizabeth replied hesitantly, "But Dr. Vaughn has had previous experiences similar to this, yes."

"Is this why O'Neill sent her here?" John questioned, "Were you expecting this?"

"No, John," Elizabeth insisted firmly, "Believe me, if I had any idea the Trust would go this far, I would've done everything I could to prevent it."

"You said 'this far'," Rodney scowled, "And Red said the Trust's primary and secondary plans failed. There's no way she could know that for sure unless…" sudden clarity came over Rodney's face, "Are you _kidding_ me? She's a _spy_? That's why she's here, isn't it? Of course. That explains so much. Why else would someone with her employment history be working as an assistant? General O'Neill sent her here undercover to find out if there were any traitors in Atlantis. I can't believe-"

"Rodney," Elizabeth cut off his rant sharply, "Whatever it is you think you've figured out-"

"I'm not going to say anything," Rodney rolled his eyes, "I do actually know how to keep a secret, Elizabeth."

"Get started on the ZPM, McKay," John ordered, "We need the cloak up before the Wraith get here."

"Right, of course," the glass door slid open in front of Rodney as he left.

"You should have told me," John's jaw tightened, "that the Trust was after you. That's why Vaughn's here, isn't it? She's supposed to be protecting you from them."

"What would you have done, John?" Elizabeth asked calmly.

"I could've helped, Elizabeth," John swore quietly, "I'm responsible for the safety and security of everyone in Atlantis. That includes you. I should've been informed about the possibility of the Trust operative infiltrating the City. Maybe this could have been prevented if-"

"It couldn't have been," D spoke from the doorway, "Rodney left?"

"Yes," Elizabeth scowled at D, "That was fast."

"Good. He has terrible acting skills," D looked over to the glass door and it slid shut again as she turned to wave a hand over the control crystals behind her. She popped open the panel and rearranged the crystals before tapping the center one three times. The writing-covered glass clouded over with each tap until it was completely frosted before D replaced the panel.

"Privacy mode," D explained as she moved around Elizabeth's desk and stepped on top of a file cabinet to pull the wire from the security camera, "I asked the City about it."

"You know who it is," Elizabeth sighed, "Don't you?"

"I've a very good idea," D hopped down from the file cabinet, "Yes, ma'am."

"Who?" John questioned.

"Elizabeth," D looked back and forth between John and Elizabeth several times before her ash gray stare settled on Elizabeth's determined gaze, "I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to think very carefully about your response before you answer."

"All right," Elizabeth nodded once.

"Would you trust him with my life?" D pointed to John, "And I mean everything that the phrase 'my life' entails in relation to me."

"I…" Elizabeth looked over to John, then back to D as she spoke firmly, "Yes, I would."

"I need you to promise me one thing then, Colonel," D turned to face him fully, "If the Goa'uld tries to take me as a host, you put a bullet in my brain stem immediately. No hesitation, no trying to remove the symbiote, nothing – you kill me."

"What Goa'uld?" Elizabeth's jaw dropped, "What are you talking about?"

"I thought it was supposed to be a low-level operative," John said warily, "How can you be sure there's a Goa'uld in the City?"

"Technically it's not in the City," D clarified, "It's on the Daedalus. I can't be one hundred percent positive, but I'm rarely wrong in this type of situation."

"D, there's no reason to-" Elizabeth started.

"There's every reason, ma'am," D interrupted, "My primary plan involves being in close proximity to the Goa'uld. I assume Dr. McKay will discover shortly that the City's operating system has been tampered with in some fashion. There will be some sort of code or password needed to change it back. A code only the Goa'uld will have. I am the best equipped person to acquire that code without unduly damaging the host body. To do that, however, requires that I reveal certain information about myself. Any Goa'uld that works for the Trust is going to know who – or rather _what_ – I am. If the Goa'uld is allowed to blend with this body, it will have access to everything I know. Think about what that means, ma'am. If I have the skills and abilities I do now, imagine what I would do with a Goa'uld parasite in me."

"Wouldn't it be what the Goa'uld would do with you?" John asked cautiously.

"No, it wouldn't," Elizabeth spoke quietly, looking down at the floor.

"The stronger of the two minds would win out," D spoke evenly, "But there would still be a blending of the two personalities. That means I would gain all the knowledge and abilities of the Goa'uld. If the violence and ruthlessness contained in my mind were to be combined with the megalomania and sociopathic tendencies of a Goa'uld symbiote the results would be catastrophic."

"You'd destroy us," Elizabeth rubbed her fingers over her temples, "And probably use Atlantis to take over the damn galaxy. Isn't there any other way to get the information we need to save the City?"

"There is another way," D agreed easily, "If you don't mind torturing the host body. It's unlikely we can get the Goa'uld to give us the codes in time. We need to get to the host body without the symbiote's interference. I can do that without hurting him."

"Why is it most of the plans you come up with," Elizabeth glared at D, "involve you getting injured, potentially torturing someone, or dying painfully?"

"I am what they made me, ma'am," D held Elizabeth's gaze, "You said you trusted him with my life. Killing me to keep me contained has always been a part of my life."

"Isn't anyone going to ask if I'm okay with this?" John scowled at the two women.

"You've already subconsciously agreed, Sheppard," D waved a hand at him, "Your chords changed when I asked you. Besides, I'm only using you as a back-up plan. The probability you'll actually have to kill me is less than three percent."

"You know," John's scowl deepened, "I think Rodney might be right. You are pretty damn annoying."

"Must be why your subconscious was so eager to agree to kill me," D shrugged.

"Are you at least going to tell us what the plan is first?" Elizabeth questioned, "And who you think the Goa'uld is using as a host?"

"You know, Elizabeth," D rocked back on her heels as she spoke casually, "If I was the type of person that said 'I told you so', this would be the perfect occasion to do so."

"What do you…" Elizabeth looked at D curiously, then her jaw dropped for the second time in the short conversation, "Oh, you've got to be joking."


	36. Assets, Operatives, and Angels

"I'm still working on cracking the new failsafe code but, uh," Rodney looked chagrined, "so far, no luck."

"How are things coming with Kavanagh?" Caldwell asked, "He still your prime suspect?"

"Yes, he is," Elizabeth nodded, "I'm having some difficulty with him, though. He's not exactly the most co-operative of people."

"Ooh, well, there's a shocker!" Rodney snarked.

"If he does know the code," Elizabeth continued, "I highly doubt he's going to just give it to us."

"Give me ten minutes with him," Ronon came into the room from where he had been listening against the balcony, "I'll get it out of him."

"Might not be a bad idea," John leaned forward in his chair, "Maybe it is time to take this interrogation to the next level."

"Look, I hate Kavanagh as much as the next guy, probably even more," Rodney spoke cautiously, "but, um, we really need to be sure about this."

"I agree. If there's the slightest chance that he's innocent, then..." Elizabeth trailed off.

"We don't have time to debate morality," Caldwell pointed out, "Unfortunately sometimes you have to do unpleasant things to save lives."

"Truer words, Colonel," D stepped into the room, "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Where have _you_ been?" Rodney scowled.

"Around," D answered vaguely, "I had some things I had to take care of."

"I was expecting you an hour ago, Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth looked at her watch, "Where have you been?"

"My apologies, ma'am. I had a little trouble acquiring the last of the data I needed," D moved forward slowly, "Do you play sports, Colonel Caldwell?"

"Excuse me?" Caldwell looked at D strangely.

"I know you play chess," D continued forward until she was standing between Elizabeth and Caldwell, turning to face Caldwell fully, "remarkably well, as a matter of fact, but I'm curious to know if you play any sports. Physical ones, I mean, like soccer, lacrosse…football maybe?"

"We don't have time for this," Caldwell turned away to leave.

"_Occludo_," D commanded. [Latin: Close.]

The doors to the conference room pivoted shut in front of Caldwell and the locks engaged with a loud click.

"Dr. Weir," Caldwell looked past D to Elizabeth, "Please get your staff under control."

"The question is relevant to the situation at hand," D drew Caldwell's attention back to her.

"How could that possibly be relevant to getting the fail-safe codes from Kavanagh?" Caldwell asked incredulously.

"Kavanagh is too big of a narcissist to be working for the Trust. More than anything else, he wants to be recognized as the supposed genius that he is. He can't get that recognition working for an organization like the Trust," D explained simply, "He's also too much of a coward to have any sort of success as an operative. He'd give up all his secrets at the first sign of any sort of advanced interrogation. Quite frankly, Kavanagh is one of the most _useless_ human beings I've ever encountered."

"That still doesn't explain what my playing sports has to do with anything," Caldwell insisted.

"Your pulse," D moved closer, lifting her right hand to lay two fingers against Caldwell's neck, "it's the steadiest I've ever seen, a constant fifty-five beats per minute, no matter the situation. No upticks, no stutters, no variations whatsoever. It's quite fascinating, actually. Usually only well-trained athletes have a resting pulse between forty and sixty, so I was just wondering if perhaps you played sports in your spare time."

"It's none of your business what my pulse is," Caldwell sneered down at her, "or what I do in my spare time, Dr. Vaughn."

"Even now it's stable," D smiled and trailed her hand down to rest over his heart, "which I find most unusual. A person's heart usually starts beating faster when they're near someone they find attractive."

"Maybe I don't find you attractive," Caldwell challenged, "You're not really my type."

"Now, Steven," D's voice dropped to a purr, "we both know that's not true. Your dilated pupils and the catch in your breath when I touch you tell a different story. I may not be your 'type', but you definitely find me attractive. Yet your pulse remains steady at fifty-five beats per minute."

"What are you trying to accomplish with this ridiculous display, Dr. Vaughn?" Caldwell questioned.

The predatory smile came across D's face and her eyes darkened to black as she leaned up on her toes to whisper in Caldwell's ear, "I know what you are, snake."

D drew the gun from his holster and brought it up to his temple, finger already on the trigger, as Caldwell's hand snapped up to wrap around her throat.

Both John and Ronon immediately drew their weapons, aiming steadily at Caldwell as his eyes flashed gold. Rodney scrambled up from his seat, moving over by Elizabeth as she shifted back against the table.

"Oh my god," Elizabeth gasped.

"You may be stronger," D's voice was deathly calm, "but I guarantee I'm faster. Let me go or you'll be dead before you hit the floor."

"Kill me," Caldwell spoke with a Goa'uld's distorted tones, "and you'll be killing the host."

"You are assuming I care about the host," D stated evenly, "You assume incorrectly. Release me."

"I don't think so," the Goa'uld tightened his grip, "If I let you go, I have no guarantee your colleagues won't shoot me."

"Specialist Dex, set your weapon to stun and move in front of Drs. Weir and McKay," D ordered, "Colonel Sheppard, lower your gun and do the same."

"I'm not putting my gun down," John insisted.

"Me either," Ronon growled.

"If you kill him," D spoke patiently, "he won't be able to give us the fail-safe codes."

"He'll kill you, _kuahine_," Ronon took a step closer. [Hawaiian: sister]

"If you mean what you say, _kunane_," D's voice was strained as the Goa'uld squeezed even tighter, "then do as I ask before he chokes me to death." [Hawaiian: brother]

Ronon lowered his gun reluctantly but didn't holster it, moving around the room to stand in front of Elizabeth and Rodney.

"Sheppard," D prompted.

"Vaughn, this isn't a good idea," John cautioned.

"Of course it isn't," D agreed, "Do it anyway."

"If he makes one wrong move-" John moved to stand next to Ronon, aiming his gun towards the floor.

"You'll do _nothing_," D interrupted harshly, "unless he tries to harm Dr. Weir or Dr. McKay."

"Red," Rodney cautioned, "Maybe you should think about this a little more."

"He's not going to kill me," D lifted the gun from the Goa'uld's temple, moving her finger to rest against the barrel, "Are you?"

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't," the Goa'uld shook D slightly.

"Because you know what I am," D stated evenly.

"You're the _Angelus Mortis_," the Goa'uld released D and she sucked in a quick breath as she took a small step back, "The asset stolen from American intelligence. They say no one's ever seen your true face and lived to talk about it. I thought you'd be…" [Latin: Angel of Death]

"Choose your next words very carefully, snake," D narrowed her eyes at the Goa'uld, tightening her grip on the gun, "I do not take kindly to being insulted."

"I thought you'd be uglier," the Goa'uld looked her over with a sickening leer, "Your supposed death caused quite a stir. They call you the fallen angel now. They've gone through eight different operatives trying to find an adequate replacement for you. I had my suspicions, but it's pleasant to have them confirmed."

"You had suspicions," D waited for the Goa'uld to look in her the eyes again, "and yet you didn't tell them I was here."

"You cannot know that to be true," the Goa'uld argued.

"If you'd told them I was alive, they would've given you orders to recall me by any means necessary," D ejected the magazine from the gun, dropping it to the floor and kicking it back to John, "You have made no attempt to take me back, therefore," D held the weapon out to the Goa'uld, "you have told no one of your suspicions. There's still a bullet in the chamber."

The Goa'uld took the gun from D, pressing the muzzle to the center of her forehead, "And what's to stop me from killing you, Azrael? Everyone already believes you are dead. I'd be doing the galaxy a favor by making that true."

"Don't be dull," D rolled her eyes, "You can't call me by name and threaten to kill me in the same sentence then expect me to believe you'll pull the trigger. You know how valuable I am alive. And don't pretend you're willing to kill yourself to keep from giving me the access codes either. We both know neither of those are options you would consider."

"Then why bother to give me the gun?" the Goa'uld slipped the weapon back into the holster at his thigh.

"A gesture of good faith, to prove that I'm willing to compromise," D explained, "I'd like to make a deal with you."

"I will not give you the codes," the Goa'uld insisted.

"Not even in exchange for an angel's submission?" D asked evenly.

When the Goa'uld remained silent, a seductive smile blossomed over D's face.

"So that's what it takes to raise your pulse," D ducked her head, the soft purr in her voice once more, "All the way up to seventy-eight beats per minute and I've barely touched you yet. I assume you've heard the stories."

"Are they true?" the Goa'uld questioned, "They say you're not quite human, that were engineered to be something…_else_ – something _better_. They say an angel cannot disobey an order from her Master."

"Every word they say about me is true," D agreed eagerly, looking up at the Goa'uld through her dark lashes, "From the stories of my creation to the broad range of my skills to the depth of my submission."

"This place," the Goa'uld glanced over D's shoulder to the small group behind her, "and these people are worth that much to you?"

"It's not a matter of what they're worth to me," D stepped close to the Goa'uld again, "It's a matter of who is strong enough to give me what I crave. A fallen angel kept in a cage is worth very little. An angel allowed to spread its wings and fly again is worth much more. You lust for power more than anything else. Imagine how powerful you would be with an angel doing your bidding, smiting down your enemies," D tilted her head back with a soft smile, exposing the ring of bruises already forming on her neck, "following your orders and only your orders. That is what I crave – someone strong enough to use me as I was made to be used. Someone strong enough to _make me_ obey their orders."

The Goa'uld ran a finger lightly over D's jaw then slowly trailed it down the side of her neck, "Every order, angel?"

"Every single one," D shivered as the Goa'uld traced the bruises lightly, "And you'll find that I'm exceptionally good at _following orders_."

"They won't let us leave here," the Goa'uld leaned closer to D as he whispered, "even if I do give you the codes."

"Do you think any of them will be able to stop us?" D smiled and put a hand on the Goa'uld's shoulder, lifting up onto her toes again to get closer, "Tick, tock. Time's running out."

"What are you doing, Vaughn?" John's grip tightened on his gun.

"Shut up, Sheppard," D pressed her body against the Goa'uld's, "Decide…sir."

"I accept your deal, Azrael," the Goa'uld tangled his fingers in D's hair above her low bun and yanked her head back harshly, "The codes for an angel's submission."

D smiled serenely, "A very wise choice, _sir_."

The Goa'uld smashed their lips together, dragging his other hand down to her butt to pull her more firmly against him. D's arms slid around his neck as she opened her mouth to his. The Goa'uld pulled away with a sharp bite to her bottom lip, which drew a muted whimper out of D. He leaned back, eyes fixed on the small trickle of blood running from D's lip. D smiled up at him as she flicked her left hand behind his head, pulling a needle from her shirt sleeve. She jabbed the syringe into the back of his neck and pressed the plunger down hard before he could react. The Goa'uld's eyes flashed angrily before he collapsed to his knees in front of D, head dropping down to his chest with a cut-off scream.

"What the hell did you just do?" Rodney questioned loudly.

D ignored the outburst, dropping the needle to the ground and putting a hand on each side of Caldwell's face to lift his head.

"Steven?" D asked carefully.

"Yeah, it's me," Caldwell acknowledged, "I'm here."

"I injected an extremely potent paralytic directly into the symbiote," D held him steady, "It will hold back his control but the effects won't last long. I need you to give us the access codes before the Goa'uld takes over again. Can you do that?"

"Of course," Caldwell agreed quickly.

"Rodney," D looked over her shoulder, "Get over here. We don't have much time."

When Rodney only continued to gape at her, Ronon grabbed his tablet off the table and thrust it into his hands, shoving him towards D and Caldwell. Caldwell gave Rodney the access codes, voice shaky with concentration as Rodney typed them carefully into his tablet. The doors pivoted open again as Caldwell gave them the final number and Rodney rushed from the room.

"He's trying to take control again," Caldwell clenched his jaw, "I don't know how much longer I can-"

"It's okay," D assured him gently, "I've got you."

She let go his face with her right hand to reach into her jacket, pulling out a second syringe from the inside pocket. She pulled the cap off with her teeth, letting it fall to the ground as she stuck the needle gently into the vein in Caldwell's neck.

"This one contains sedatives," D informed him as she dropped the second needle to the ground next to them, "We'll keep you unconscious until they can figure out how to safely remove the Goa'uld."

"Thank you," Caldwell's eyelids started drooping heavily, "for stopping me."

D helped Caldwell gently down to the floor, still cradling his head in one hand as she knelt beside him. Both Ronon and John moved forward warily, guns still ready.

"He's out," D looked up at Elizabeth, "He needs to be transferred to a secure location, put in restraints, and kept under heavy sedation, ma'am. I'd recommend having the Daedalus beam him into one of the isolation rooms as soon as the guards are in place. Dr. Beckett might want to speak with Hermiod about extraction methods. The Asgard may have a way to do it without hurting Caldwell. "

"I'll speak with them," Elizabeth nodded as she looked over to John, "Get your security teams in position, Colonel."

"Sheppard," D shifted her gaze to John, "Whatever number of guards you're thinking of right now, double it. The Goa'uld is going to be extremely pissed off if it manages to wake up. I'd rather not take the chance of him getting loose in the City."

John nodded curtly as he tapped his earpiece.

Three minutes later, Caldwell's unconscious body disappear in a wash of light. Ronon shoved his blaster back in the holster before he stalked over to D and held out a hand to pull her to her feet. He glared at her for a minute before raising a fist to slug her hard in the arm.

"OW!" D pouted as she rubbed a hand over her bicep, "What the hell, Dex?"

"You're stupid, _kuahine_," Ronon gently swiped his thumb across her lip and chin several times, clearing away the blood, before he rested his hand against her cheek, "I woulda helped."

"I know, _kunane_," D leaned her head into his touch, "Does this mean I get your gun if you die?"

"Sure," Ronon dropped his hand and left the room, "Gonna go keep an eye on Caldwell."

"Stun, Ronon," D called after him. She shook her head with a fond smile, then turned back to Elizabeth, "The security footage?"

"There is no footage," Elizabeth moved over to D, "The camera was disconnected an hour ago. You okay?"

"I'm fine, ma'am," D's eyes started fading back to ash as Elizabeth gently took a hold of her chin, tilting her head back to see the bruises, "Only minor bruising and a small laceration in my lower lip. Nothing serious."

"Even so," Elizabeth released her, "You're going to report to the infirmary so Dr. Beckett can check the bruising on your neck."

"Elizabeth," D protested quietly.

"D," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

D sighed heavily, "Infirmary, ma'am?"

"Infirmary, Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth nodded.

"Yes, ma'am," D stooped to pick up the discarded needles as she left the room, passing Rodney as he rushed in.

"The ZPM, Rodney?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Caldwell's codes worked," Rodney responded quickly, "The fail-safes have been re-enabled. The cloak is up and running."

"And the Wraith cruisers?" Elizabeth asked cautiously.

"Chuck's monitoring," Rodney gestured vaguely towards the door, "We should be fine. What just happened here?"

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked calmly.

"What do I mean?" Rodney gave her an incredulous look, "How did Red know Caldwell was a Goa'uld? What was all the stuff about assets and operatives and angels? Why did it seem like the Goa'uld knew who she was? Why did he call her Azrael? Is that her real name? Did Red work for the Trust? How is it she's so valuable? What was with the creepy flirting and kissing?"

"That's a lot of questions, McKay," John exchanged a look with Elizabeth, "I'm pretty sure the only answer we're going to get is some version of the phrase 'it's complicated'."

"But she-" Rodney looked between John and Elizabeth, "But you-but-"

"It's complicated, Rodney," Elizabeth smiled as she moved past the two men to leave, "and highly classified. Why don't we go check on the status of those Wraith cruisers?"

"Come on, Rodney," John tugged on his elbow to get him to follow, "We can grab some lunch after this. I hear the mess is serving actual fries today instead of those weird purple not-potatoes Stackhouse's team brought back two months ago."

* * *

**I decided that since Jason Momoa (who plays Ronon) was Hawaiian, I was going to use parts of the Hawaiian language as Satedan.**


	37. Questions

Rodney came into the conference room to see half a dozen tablets and two laptops already spread out across the center of the u-shaped table. D was standing behind the table, plugging a long silver cord into the back of the flat screen monitor behind the chairs.

"Morning, Dr. McKay," D greeted him as she plugged the other end of the cord into one of the laptops, "You're early. The meeting doesn't start for another ten minutes."

"I know," Rodney set down his coffee cup and the tablet he carried in his usual spot, "I was hoping to find you here actually."

"Me?" D tilted her head to the side as she turned to face Rodney, "Why?"

"I have questions," Rodney scowled, "And no one will give me straight answers."

"I see," D tapped her fingers on the table as she studied Rodney, "Having this conversation will not sate your curiosity, Rodney. It's only going to leave you with more questions."

"Are you a spy?" Rodney questioned, "Or some sort of secret agent?"

"I'm Dr. Weir's executive assistant," D responded easily, "What use does she have for a spy?"

"Who did you work for before you came here?" Rodney asked.

"You've read my personnel file," D answered politely, "It includes my employment history."

"All your file says is that you worked for a bunch of US intelligence agencies," Rodney huffed, "Some of which I've never heard of before. It doesn't say what you did for them. What kind of work did you do before you came here? And don't give me that threat assessment crap because I'm smart enough to know there's more to it than that."

"The United States government paid me large sums of money," D replied smoothly, "to utilize my unique skill set on their behalf."

"Utilize your skill set to do what?" Rodney narrowed his eyes.

"To analyze a particular set of data," D came out from behind the table, leaning casually against the front of it as she responded, "and present them with a set of solutions to correct the problem."

"Do you practice speaking in vague phrases that no one understands?" Rodney crossed his arms over his chest.

"Sometimes," D mirrored his motion, "But it also comes fairly naturally to me."

"How did you know it was Caldwell?" Rodney scowled.

"As I've said before, I analyze things for a living," D explained, "Once I saw all the data laid out, I calculated the probable scenarios and chose the one that was most likely."

"You figured it out while you were giving us the profile," Rodney continued, "but you didn't say anything. Why?"

"I did say something," D corrected, "Just not to you."

"What?" Rodney pouted slightly, "Who did you tell? Why didn't you tell me too?"

"I told Dr. Weir because I report to her," D replied easily, "I told Colonel Sheppard because he was in place to be of use as a back-up plan. I didn't tell you because your poker face sucks and you would've given everything away."

"That's not true," Rodney protested, "I don't know where everyone keeps getting this idea that I can't keep a secret. I've worked for the SGC for years without letting anything slip. I haven't told anyone about the AI, even though there are several people that could help me figure out how the system works faster."

"It's not that you can't keep a secret, Rodney," D dropped her arms and stepped forward to brush her hand down his bicep lightly, "It's that you're an expressive person. You're honest with little to no social filter. Whatever thought comes into your mind comes straight out your mouth. If you do manage to hold something back, the thought is still written across your features like words in a book. You're easy to read. It's a refreshing change from most people. I actually kind of like it."

"I'm not-" Rodney flushed pink, "I don't-"

"You just called me annoying in your head," D smirked as stepped back.

"Because you are annoying," Rodney huffed, "Why did the Goa'uld call you the Angel of Death? That's what _Angelus Mortis_ means. I looked it up to make sure. He made it seem like he knew you. Well, not knew _you_ but knew _of you_. He said no one ever saw your true face, whatever that means, and lived. He also said you weren't quite human."

"Rumors and stories," D shrugged, "People like to gossip and before you know it, things are blown way out of proportion. My reputation was fairly well known in certain circles back on Earth."

"Reputation for what?" Rodney eyed her cautiously, "Because there was an awful lot of really disturbing flirting going on between you two."

"That wasn't _real_ flirting. That was a distraction technique," D shook her head, "That was me using the Goa'uld's lust for power to maneuver him into a position which would allow me to inject the symbiote directly. Lust is an easily exploitable character trait. I can make the target give me what I want by pretending to give them what they want."

"He called you Azrael," Rodney frowned, "Is that your real name? How do you get D from Azrael or vice versa?"

"You don't," D ducked her head as she turned back to the electronics, "Was there anything else, Dr. McKay? I have to finish setting up."

"You somehow managed to respond to all my questions without actually answering them," Rodney huffed as he reached over to pick up his coffee cup, "Do you smoke?"

"What?" D turned back around to look up at Rodney curiously as he sipped his coffee, "What kind of a question was that?"

"Obviously you don't smoke anymore," Rodney gestured with his empty hand, "unless maybe you smoke that weird red leaf the Athosians have but I'm pretty sure that's less like tobacco and more like pot and you don't seem like the type. I was wondering if maybe you used to smoke before you came here."

D blinked twice before she repeated peculiarly, "_What_?"

"Your voice. It's all scratchy and raspy," Rodney explained slowly, "It sounds like you had a decade long two-pack-a-day habit. It's worse today than it usually is but that's probably because of the bruising from the Goa'uld trying to choke you yesterday. So do you, or did you rather, smoke?"

"No, I don't smoke," D answered automatically, "When I was a thirteen I screamed so loud and so long that my vocal chords were damaged. Since the incident was repeated thirty-five additional times over the course of three years, the damage became permanent. It's the only injury I've never been able to fully heal."

"Oh," Rodney shifted nervously on his feet, "I didn't mean to-_Wait a minute_. That was honest, wasn't it? Like with no evasions or that answering without answering stuff you do."

"Huh. I think it was," a small scowl creased D's forehead, "How did you do that?"

"I don't know," Rodney gave her a smug smile, "But I'm going to figure out how so I can do it again."

"I'd rather you didn't," D looked to the doors as the rest of Rodney's team came into the conference room, "Morning, Colonel Sheppard, Specialist Dex, Ms. Emmagan. The others should be here shortly."

"We've got all day," John looked between Rodney's wide grin and D's annoyed scowl, "I'm surprised to see you here so early, Rodney."

"I was just-" Rodney started.

"Sticking his nose where it doesn't belong," D interrupted, moving over by Teyla to lay her hand against the other woman's arm, "I am sorry for your loss, Teyla. If you wanted to take the day, I'm sure Elizabeth would understand."

"Thank you, D," Teyla leaned her forehead against D's for a moment, "but I do not believe that Charin would want me to wallow in grief."

"If you need anything," D dropped her hand and stepped back.

"I will not hesitate to ask you," Teyla smiled softly.

Ronon moved over to D and hooked a finger in the zippered collar of her shirt, pulling it to each side to survey the bruises on her neck. He pulled his finger out and lifted his hand to tap against the small cut in her lip.

"Better," Ronon nodded.

"I heal fast," D raised an eyebrow at him, "Is this going to be a thing now?"

"Yeah," Ronon grinned widely, "You started it, _kuahine_."

"Started what?" Carson asked curiously as he came into the room.

"Nothing," D smothered a smile, "Morning, Dr. Beckett. How is Colonel Caldwell doing?"

"Hermiod finished the calculations this morning," Carson informed her, "We were able to successfully remove the symbiote and Caldwell is resting comfortably. He'll be taken back to Earth when the Daedalus leaves tomorrow morning for a full evaluation and debrief. I'm guessing you're the one who's responsible for the missing drugs in my infirmary?"

"Yeah, sorry about that," D replied easily, "I would've asked first but I couldn't take the chance that anyone would find out what was going on."

"I don't suppose I'll have to report the theft then," Carson slid into one of the chairs.

"You could, I suppose," D shrugged, "It would give First Sgt. Stiles something to do other than trying to find the new location of Radek's still."

"I thought Stiles had given up on that by now," Zelenka said as he and Lorne came into the room, "He will not find its new location. I have made sure it is well-hidden this time."

"Morning, Major Lorne," D nodded at each of them, "Dr. Zelenka."

"You have a still?" Lorne eyed Zelenka cautiously.

"Best to pretend you didn't hear that, Lorne," John drawled, "Makes your life less difficult."

"Right," Lorne sat down, "My hearing seems to have declined greatly since coming to Atlantis."

"How unfortunate," D smiled as she moved back around the table to start typing on the laptop, "So everyone knows, there's coffee, water, and other various drinks on the side table over there. Both lunch and dinner will be delivered and there are ten minute breaks scheduled every two hours, but if you need anything else while we're here today, feel free to ask."

"I need-" Rodney started.

"Nope," D cut him off.

"But you don't even know what I was going to say," Rodney half-whined.

"Rodney," D glanced up from the laptop screen, "Like a book. This meeting effects the entirety of Atlantis. If you can come up with one good reason for you to be excused, one that I can't refute before this meeting is officially scheduled to start, I will not only personally convince Dr. Weir you don't need to be here, I will quit my job as her assistant and come work in your lab on whatever projects you want."

"Really?" Rodney brightened.

"Absolutely," D finished typing on the laptop and looked at her watch, "You've got exactly three minutes starting…now."

"I have dozens of experiments that I am personally supervising," Rodney spoke rapidly as he set his coffee cup back on the table.

"You've already cleared your schedule," D shook her head, "which means there's nothing urgent that can't wait until tomorrow."

"We found out the City's operating systems were tampered with yesterday," Rodney scowled, "I should be going over the code to make sure there wasn't any further changes."

"That might have worked," D smirked, "If I didn't know that you spent the majority of yesterday evening consulting with Hermiod about beam extraction and that you assigned a team of nine people to go through the systems. If you were really that concerned about the City's systems you'd have personally seen to it before now."

"My time would be better spent working on figuring out the MTI," Rodney argued.

"You said yourself that project would most likely take at least a year," D countered, "Twelve hours will not make a difference. You spend more time than that playing games with Colonel Sheppard."

"Project HAL," Rodney narrowed his eyes.

"Same reasons as the MTI," D moved around to the front of the table again, "In addition, you get your best results with natural ATA positives, the strongest of whom are attending this meeting."

"I'm traumatized from the events of yesterday," Rodney crossed his arms over his chest, "and I need to go speak with Dr. Heightmeyer."

"You are not traumatized, Rodney," D rolled her eyes, "Even if you were, the only reason Dr. Heightmeyer is not attending this meeting herself is because she's staying with Colonel Caldwell until the Daedalus leaves."

"I hate meetings," Rodney huffed petulantly.

"I hate sifting through several dozen emails every morning," D smiled widely, "but I do it anyway because it's part of my job. You're not even trying, Rodney."

"Sitting in the same chair for twelve hours," Rodney unfolded his arms and took a small step forward, "is terrible for my back. I'll be in pain for days."

"Poor baby," D stuck her lower lip out and leaned back against the table, "I'll give you a massage to make it better."

"Wait," Rodney flushed pink, "Really?"

"No," D snorted, "But I'm sure Carson can be convinced to give you a painkiller. One minute."

"Coffee," Rodney said quickly.

"There," D pointed to the side table.

"Blood sugar," Rodney tried.

"Meals delivered," D shook her head.

"I'm not prepared," Rodney said.

"Liar," D grinned.

"I don't care about the City's future," Rodney waved his hands around wildly.

"Another lie," D cocked her head to the side as she turned to face the door, her eyes narrowing fractionally, "Fifteen seconds, McKay."

"If you get me out of this meeting," Rodney offered, "I won't do the question thing again."

"That's not a reason, that's an attempted extortion," D stood up from the table and walked towards the doors, "and you don't even know what you did the first time, so I doubt you'll be able to repeat it. Time's up. Excuse me, I have to go take care of something."

"Idiot," Rodney grumbled under his breath.

"Jackass," D spoke over her shoulder as she left.

"Wow," Lorne looked between Rodney and the doors, "It's like watching tennis, only way more exciting."

"What?" Rodney frowned at Lorne, "What are you talking about?"

"Not tennis," Zelenka shook his head, "Like fencing. We are keeping score in the labs."

"Oh yeah?" John smirked at Rodney, "Who's winning?"

"You have to ask after what just happened?" Carson grinned.

"You've never seen them argue science," John leaned back in his chair, "He wins over half the time then."

"Score is currently fifty-seven to forty-eight," Zelenka informed them, "In favor of Dr. Vaughn."

"None of you are as funny as you think you are," Rodney scowled around the room as he sat in his chair.

"I am not having this conversation with you anymore," Elizabeth's annoyed voice drifted through the door, "I have more important things to attend to. Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

Elizabeth strode through the doorway, a red-faced Kavanagh following closely behind, and D a step behind him.

"You treated me like a criminal," Kavanagh reached out to grab Elizabeth's arm, "I'm not done talking to you."

Just as Kavanagh made contact with Elizabeth's elbow, D's fingers snapped around his wrist, eyes darkening as her grip tightened.

"Choose your next actions with care, Dr. Kavanagh," D spoke calmly, "Release Dr. Weir."

Kavanagh's angry gaze shifted to D and his fingers uncurled from around Elizabeth's arm.

"Do we have a problem here?" John stood as Elizabeth took a step back.

"No problem, Colonel," D kept her now black eyes on Kavanagh, "Peter and I were just going to have a quick chat. Weren't we, Peter?"

"A chat," confusion came over Kavanagh's face as D pulled gently on his wrist, "Fine, whatever. Let's have a chat."

"D, you don't-" Elizabeth started.

"It'll only take a moment, ma'am," D led Kavanagh from the room.

D stopped on the balcony, turning Kavanagh to face her as she shifted her grip and raised her other arm so both hands were wrapped around his wrists before she started speaking quietly.

"Elizabeth," Carson looked over to her nervously, "Should you be letting…?"

"It's fine," Elizabeth replied tightly, "And frankly, deserved at this point."

"What's going on?" John questioned.

"Dr. Kavanagh's upset about his treatment yesterday," Elizabeth explained, "He's been in my office the last half hour expressing his unhappiness."

"I could shoot him," Ronon offered, glaring at Kavanagh's back from where he sat.

"Thank you, Ronon," Elizabeth smiled wryly, "But I don't think it will be necessary after his conversation with Dr. Vaughn."

"I believe you may be right," Teyla raised an eyebrow as D finally released Kavanagh and the man gave her an unpleasant smile.

D took a step back and tapped her earpiece, turning away as Kavanagh disappeared in a wash of light.

"All settled, ma'am," D smiled politely as she came back into the conference room, "Dr. Kavanagh wanted me to express his apologies for wasting your time."

"He did?" Elizabeth asked skeptically.

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head, "Dr. Kavanagh had a personal epiphany while we were speaking. I believe he's turned over a new leaf. The SGC should find him a model employee from now on."

"Model employee?" Rodney scoffed, "Kavanagh? I doubt it. What did you do, Red, blackmail him? Threaten him? Pull some sort of Jedi mind trick?"

"I don't even know what a Jedi mind trick is," D moved over to the table to pour a cup of coffee, "I left a post-hypnotic suggestion in his mind so that every time he hears his name he'll want to be as helpful as possible."

"Really?" Rodney's eyes widened, "You hypnotized him in that short time?"

"No, Rodney," D rolled her eyes as added cream and sugar to the cup, "I told him if he didn't behave I'd shave off that stupid ponytail he's so proud of."

"Oh," Rodney sank into his chair, "That works too, I suppose."

"What do you mean you don't know what a Jedi mind trick is?" John wondered.

"That's a very good question," Lorne agreed, "Star Wars is practically required watching at the Mountain. You've never seen Star Wars?"

"No," D moved around behind the tables to take her seat, sliding the coffee cup in front of Elizabeth, "I was only in Cheyenne Mountain for a total of six hours. Is the Jedi thing from Star Wars?"

"Star Wars are the movies with the robots," Teyla asked curiously, "and the glowing swords, yes?"

"Lightsabers," Rodney corrected with a quick hand wave, "You really haven't seen any of the Star Wars movies?"

"I've been busy," D shrugged.

"We are having a Star Wars marathon this evening after the meeting is finished," Zelenka pointed a finger at D, "Everyone here will attend."

"Perhaps we should get started then," Elizabeth moved one of the laptops in front of her and smiled as she sipped the coffee, "Since it seems we're going to have a busy night."


	38. Survival, Part One

"This is the full list?" Elizabeth accepted the tablet passed down the table.

"It is what my department has come up with in the last couple weeks," Zelenka nodded, "I have separated it into three different categories as you instructed: things we need, things we want, and things that would make life easier.

"You asked everyone under you?" Elizabeth skimmed the text quickly before handing it to D.

"Yes," Zelenka straightened his glasses, "I asked everyone to create their own list, then put everything together and separated them myself. The email instructions said to think like there was no budget, so that is what we have done."

"There's a lot of overlap here with Rodney's list," D scrolled quickly through the tablet, "But that's to be expected."

"That's the last of the supply lists, right?" Elizabeth looked over to D, "How much do you think, realistically, we'll be able to get a hold of?"

"Depends on who's currently the head of the budget committee," D added the tablet to the pile in front of her and reached forward to hit a couple keys on her laptop, "what means you use to acquire some of the items, and what method of persuasion you use to sell the idea. Assuming everything is obtained through strictly legal means, I'd say we could convince them to give us nearly ninety-five percent of the 'need' lists, about sixty-three percent of the 'want' list, and about fourteen percent of the 'would be nice' lists. Those percentages go up if you consider other methods of acquisition."

"Other methods of acquisition?" John drawled, "Would you like to be more specific?"

"Well," D sat back in her chair, "I'm assuming that whoever goes to speak with the budget committee is going to tell the truth about why we want certain supplies. For example: Carson's want list includes some basic medical supplies and MRE rations for humanitarian missions. If that's the reason you give the IOA, they're going to say no. If, however, the IOA was told that we need those supplies to replace the ones that were lost or stolen over the last six months, they'd be more likely to let us have them."

"You're suggesting we lie to the IOA?" Carson raised an eyebrow.

"Not necessarily lie," D shrugged, "According to the security reports, a lot of things go missing in the City. Who's to say whether or not those supplies are really there or not?"

"The inventory reports would show differently though," Lorne hesitated, "The first inspection would show the missing supplies were still here."

"Evan," D gave him an amused smile, "Your men are responsible for doing the monthly inventory. How hard would it be to adjust their paperwork? Or if that makes you uncomfortable," D continued easily at Lorne's frown, "How hard would it be for those supplies to be mysteriously moved into an uninhabited section of the City so they don't show up on inventory reports?"

"Not lying," Radek said thoughtfully, "More like…adjusting the truth."

"Exactly," D nodded, "This meeting is supposed to be about Atlantis' continued survival in the Pegasus galaxy. How far would you go to survive?"

"Are there any items on the lists that can be created?" Teyla wondered, "Either here in the City or perhaps somewhere in Pegasus?"

"That's a good idea in theory," Rodney replied, "But we don't have time to be manufacturing every little thing that we need and, no offense, but any society advanced enough to make what we need doesn't last very long in this galaxy."

"That's not necessarily true," D argued, "Colonel Sheppard's list included tactical vests and weapon holsters. If we provided the base materials and instructions, I'm almost positive the Pulooy would be capable of assembling them. That would cut the cost considerably."

"There are many societies that would be willing to trade food items as well," Teyla looked to Elizabeth, "Up until now we have only been trading for small amounts. If we were to rely more on food from trade here in Pegasus, we would be less dependent on supplies from Earth."

"Do you know of any societies that would be willing to trade such large quantities of food?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"Only if we had something they value to offer in return," Teyla answered, "Perhaps manual labor to assist in planting and harvesting the additional crops or the medical supplies you spoke of earlier. Even something as simple as offering them a guarantee of sanctuary should the Wraith attack."

"We're going to run into a lot of security issues if we start inviting everyone back to Atlantis," John pointed out, "We could end up with Genii spies or Wraith worshippers in the City."

"They wouldn't have to come here right away. We have a number of suitable alpha sites," D suggested, "If we were to offer sanctuary, we could send them there until a risk assessment is completed."

"And who's going to do that assessment?" Rodney scoffed.

"He's right," Lorne agreed, "Unless we get more security personnel, that's not really a viable option."

"Actually, at this point in time, the number of personnel is irrelevant," D spoke evenly, "There are only two people in the City would could do an in-depth assessment without additional training."

"What are you talking about?" John gave her a small frown, "We have some of the best trained military that Earth has to offer."

"Ma'am?" D looked to Elizabeth uncertainly.

"Go ahead," Elizabeth nodded once and leaned back in her chair.

"I'd like to preface what's about to happen," D looked around the room, "by saying that I mean no disrespect to anyone here. I'm only trying to demonstrate a point. I'm going to ask a series of questions and I want your answers to be as honest and specific as possible. If you need further clarification, please ask," D's gaze settled on John, "Colonel Sheppard, how many weapons are in this room?"

"What?" John asked cautiously.

"How many weapons are currently in this room?" D repeated the question patiently.

"Two guns, mine and Lorne's," John answered carefully, "Ronon's blaster and however many knives he's carrying today."

"Specialist Dex," D turned to Ronon, "How many weapons are currently in this room?"

Ronon glanced around the room, "Define weapon."

"Any object where the primary purpose is causing harm to a living being," D clarified.

"Teyla has a small hunting knife in her left boot; straight, four inch, single-sided blade. No weapons on Dr. Beckett," Ronon looked at each person as he spoke, "Lorne has a nine-millimeter handgun on his right thigh, fifteen round magazine capacity, no bullet in the chamber. Sheppard has a forty-five caliber handgun on his right thigh, seven round magazine capacity, additional round in the chamber, and a second clip in the holster. He has one of those military knives in the holster on his belt, currently on his right hip; straight, seven inch, single-edged blade. Dr. Zelenka has one of those knife things with all the tools in his right pants pocket. Dr. Weir has a small folding knife clipped to the inside of her pants on her right hip; curved, three inch, single-edged blade. Another one of those knife tools on McKay – also in his right pants pocket," Ronon paused when he looked at D, "I have seven knives on me, but I'm not telling you where they are or what kind they are. My gun is on my right hip. There's more but…"

"It's all right, _kunane_," D encouraged, "Finish."

"You have two knives today, but I won't say where they are," Ronon continued, "Both curved, four inch, double-sided blades. You've fitted your watch with a thin wire, but I'm not sure how long it is since I've never seen you use it. Another knife-tool thing in your left pants pocket. Two collapsible batons, one inside each boot. You only started carrying those yesterday."

"The knife tool you're referring to is called a Swiss army knife," D smiled warmly at Ronon before she turned to Lorne, "Major Lorne, who is the most dangerous person in this room?"

"Ronon, I guess," Lorne shifted in his chair.

"Why?" D questioned.

"Because I'm pretty sure he could kick all our asses," Lorne admitted dryly.

"Dex," D looked back to Ronon, "Who is the most dangerous person in this room?"

"Under what terms?" Ronon narrowed his eyes.

"Biggest potential for casualties," D leaned back in her chair comfortably, "Don't forget to tell us why."

"McKay," Ronon answered easily, "He can build the big bombs faster than anyone else."

"Dr. Beckett," D looked to Carson, "Who is the strongest person in this room and why?"

"Well, Ronon, I suppose," Carson replied uncertainly, "because he has the largest muscle mass."

"Dex," D folded her hands over her lap.

"Teyla is the strongest," Ronon spoke quietly, "Because she shows compassion even to her enemies."

"Dr. Zelenka, who is the most powerful person in this room?" D asked calmly.

"I would say Dr. Weir," Zelenka responded, "She makes the rules for the rest of us. I suspect, however, that is not the answer you are looking for."

"Dex," D prompted.

"I agree. Dr. Weir," Ronon stretched out in his chair, "but not for the same reasons. She makes the rules but she does not enforce them. She is the most powerful because she commands the respect and loyalty of everyone here. Because every single one of us would kill and die on her orders."

"Teyla," D turned her head to look at the other woman, "If you were stranded on a planet and you could choose only one person in this room to be with you, who would it be and why?"

"Is there any hope of being rescued from the planet?" Teyla asked carefully.

"No," D shook her head, "You are the only two survivors of the human race in the galaxy."

A pensive look came over Teyla's face, "What type of planet?"

"Unpopulated," D replied easily, "but habitable. Temperate climate, a mix between heavily forested and open fields. Large oceans, plenty of rivers with fresh water."

"Do we have any supplies with us?" Teyla inquired.

"Only what you can carry between the two of you," D gave the other woman a small smile, "No jumper, but anything else you would find in the survival kits inside, minus the advanced technology and the weapons."

"I believe I would choose Ronon," Teyla answered calmly, "He has the necessary skills we would need to not only survive, but to live. Between the two of us, we would be able to hunt or forage for food and build shelters to shield us from the elements. He would also be a wise choice to father children. He is physically capable, intelligent, and pleasant company. He has the temperament and determination needed to continue living."

"Ronon," D turned her smile to him, "Same question."

"What she said," Ronon grinned at Teyla.

"Final question," D turned to Rodney, "Dr. McKay, who is the biggest threat in this room?"

"I'm not even going to try to answer that," Rodney huffed, "It's obviously a trick question."

D turned to Ronon and raised an eyebrow.

"You are the biggest threat, _kuahine_," Ronon's expression grew serious as he straightened in his chair, "Because you have no mercy. You would destroy this entire planet and everyone on it, without hesitation, if it meant succeeding in your goal."

"Now for a practical demonstration," D stood and walked around the table to stand in front of Lorne, "May I have your sidearm, Major?"

Lorne slid his gun out of the holster and held it out to D across the table.

"Dr. Weir," D narrowed her eyes at Lorne as she took the gun from his hand, "What are the first two rules when dealing with guns?"

"Never point a gun at someone you aren't willing to kill," Elizabeth answered quietly, "And never hand someone a loaded gun because it can be used against you."

"Even if it's someone you trust?" John looked between Elizabeth and D.

"Two things, Colonel," D ejected the clip and laid it on the table in front of Lorne, "First, things change, people change. Just because you trusted someone yesterday doesn't mean they wouldn't shoot you today."

"And the second?" John leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Second, I am the last person you should trust," D disassembled the gun and laid the pieces in front of Carson, "Hypothetical situation, Dr. Beckett. I'm a Wraith. You have one minute to kill me before I kill you."

"But I don't…" Carson frowned down at the pieces.

"Starting," D looked at her watch, "Now."

"I'm a bloody doctor," Carson grumbled as he picked up two of the pieces, "not a soldier. I don't know how to…"

"Forty-five seconds," D kept her gaze on her watch.

"Damn it," Carson swore as he slid the pieces he held together.

Carson continued swearing under his breath as his shaking hands put the gun back together.

"Ten, nine, eight," D started counting down evenly as Carson slid the last piece into place, "Think you're done?"

"Yes, yes," Carson took a deep breath as he looked down at the reassembled gun, "There. I put the damn thing back together."

"Time. Sorry, Carson," D finally looked away from her watch, "You're dead."

"What?" Carson protested, "But I put the gun back together in the time you gave me."

D picked up the gun and moved over to Elizabeth. She disassembled the gun again, dropping the pieces onto the table in front of Elizabeth.

"Same deal," D instructed as she looked down at her watch, "I'm a Wraith. You have one minute to kill me before I kill you. Your time starts now."

Elizabeth started reassembling the weapon quickly. She put the last piece in place, then stood, gun in hand as she walked over to pick up the clip in front of Lorne. She slammed it into place before she raised the gun to aim at D.

"Bang, bang," Elizabeth announced dryly, "You're dead."

"Seventeen seconds to spare," D smiled and held out her hand.

"Now wait a minute," Carson complained, "That's not hardly fair."

"Yeah," Rodney agreed, "And what happened to not pointing a gun at someone you're not willing to kill?"

"I am willing to kill her," Elizabeth ejected the clip from the gun and set it on the table in front of Lorne before she handed the gun to D.

"As you should be," D walked over to Ronon as Elizabeth sat back down, "One more."

D disassembled the gun once more, setting the pieces in front of Ronon as a grin spread across his face.

"I'm a Wraith. One minute to kill me before I kill you. Actually, hold on," D tilted her head to the side and unzipped her jacket, pulling it off and leaning over the table to drape it on the back of her chair, "For the purposes of this demonstration, we're going to pretend you don't have your gun," D stepped back into the middle of the room as Ronon set his blaster on the table, "Colonel Sheppard, if you would time this one please."

"Sure," John looked at his watch, "One minute, starting now."

Ronon shoved his chair back and leapt over the table, drawing a large wicked looking black knife from his belt. He sliced towards D and she brought her left arm up to block him. Ronon grabbed her raised arm and tried to twist her away, but D shoved her right arm forward, palm open and aimed at the center of his chest. Just before her hand would've made contact, Ronon sliced through the fabric of her uniform at the inside of her right bicep. D shifted her stance and yanked her left arm out of Ronon's grip but he moved around her to hold the knife against her neck. D stilled instantly as the cool metal laid against her skin.

"Time," Ronon grunted.

"Forty-three seconds remaining," John stated evenly.

"Damn it, _kunane_," D twisted the knife away from her neck and elbowed Ronon hard in the stomach. He grunted and stepped back while D poked at the hole in her sleeve, drawing a bloody finger out, "I know you have better control than that."

"Sorry," Ronon grinned as he slid the knife back into the holster on his belt.

"You're not sorry, asshole," D scowled at Ronon's back as he started putting the gun back together, "You did it on purpose because I made you talk so much."

"You all right?" Elizabeth asked lightly.

"I'm fine, ma'am," D sucked the blood off her finger, "Minor scratch."

Ronon clicked the last piece of the gun in place and walked over to hand it to Lorne. Lorne slid the clip back in and leaned back to put the gun back in his holster as Ronon and D took their seats again.

"So what was the point of all this?" Rodney questioned, "Other than embarrassing all of us."

"It wasn't meant to be embarrassing, Rodney," D insisted, turning to face John again, "You are correct in saying that Atlantis has some of the best trained military that Earth has to offer, Colonel. You are incorrect in assuming that training is adequate for the Pegasus galaxy."

"Explain, please," John asked calmly.

"The military trains people to follow orders," D responded, "They teach you a specific set of tactics and skills, a way of thinking that helps you stay alive in battle. You forget that we are not on Earth anymore, we're not even in the Milky Way. You cannot assume that those tactics and thought patterns will serve you well here. Before we started, I told you to answer as honestly and specifically as possible, but I also said to ask for clarification if you needed it. None of you asked me what I meant. I asked how many weapons were in this room. You answered assuming I meant guns and knives. Ronon asked me to specify what I meant by the word weapon. Technically, everything in this room can be used as a weapon. Not only that, but he gave me the location and type of each weapon, with reasonable accuracy. If you don't even know if someone is carrying a weapon or not, how can you determine whether or not they are a threat?"

"What about the rest of the questions you asked us?" Lorne wondered, "Who was right?"

"Both sets of answers were correct," D stated calmly, "The questions further illustrated the difference in thought patterns. You assumed I meant physically dangerous. Ronon asked for clarification and responded accordingly. Carson assumed I meant physical strength, Ronon assumed I meant the strength in the broadest sense of the word. Both Radek and Ronon agreed that Elizabeth is the most powerful person in the room, but they each had different reasons. Radek thinks it's because she makes the rules, because on Earth you're taught from birth to follow those rules. Ronon thinks it's because she is our leader and she holds our lives in her hands, because in Pegasus, life is the most important thing. When I asked Teyla, a Pegasus native, about being stranded on a planet, she asked me for more details, thinking carefully about her response before she gave it. When she did answer, she took it a step further, explaining that she would not only survive on that planet, but flourish – including enough foresight to consider repopulating the human race."

* * *

**When I was writing this section, I found that it was way too long to be just one chapter. There wasn't really a good place to break it up, so I just split it down the middle.**


	39. Survival, Part Two

"What about the thing with the gun?" Carson frowned, "What was the point of that?"

"An exercise in problem solving and critical thinking," D explained, "Your only instruction was to kill me before the minute was up and I killed you. Ronon, why did you attack with your knife instead of putting the gun back together and using that?"

"Faster," Ronon shrugged.

"And why do you attack the places you did?" D asked.

"Enzyme sac is in the right arm," Ronon tapped his own bicep to demonstrate, "Can't feed if they don't have it. Severing the veins in the neck makes the Wraith bleed out while I get away."

"Not only killing the Wraith, but thinking a step ahead – getting away from any other Wraith around. Elizabeth, you have a knife," D looked at her, "Why didn't you do the same as Ronon?"

"I don't have his physical strength," Elizabeth smiled wryly, "or his skill with a knife. It's doubtful I could kill a Wraith that way, unless I got extremely lucky. It's safer for me to keep my distance so the gun was a more logical option for me."

"The reason you failed, Carson," D turned back to him, "is because you didn't take your strengths and weaknesses into consideration and you didn't see the whole problem. The gun would've been practically useless without the ammunition. But that wasn't your only option. You could've asked Evan to put the gun together for you or to hand you the magazine. You could've asked Sheppard for his weapon. You could've asked Teyla or Ronon to kill the Wraith for you."

"So you'd turn us all into violent, bloody soldiers?" Carson objected crossly, "That's not what this expedition is supposed to be about. We're supposed to be-"

"I do not believe that is the point D is trying to convey," Teyla's calm voice interjected, "I believe she is trying to say that here in Pegasus, we are taught from a young age how to survive. We understand that life must continue above all else. Those who can fight back, do. Those who cannot contribute in other ways. We all do what we must in order to survive."

"The unavoidable truth here," Elizabeth stated firmly, "is that whether we like it or not, we are living in a war-zone. You all know that I, more than anyone, believe that any sort of violent action should be the absolute last resort. I have learned over the last eighteen or so months that the harsh reality is, sometimes that last resort is our only option. When Dr. Vaughn and I were discussing this meeting initially, she brought up a very good point. If the Wraith, or anyone else for that matter, were to attack the City today, most of our personnel would be unable to defend themselves. How many lives have we already lost because we didn't know what we were getting ourselves into? Because we didn't have the tools and resources we needed? Because we didn't know our own limitations? This meeting is supposed to be about not just surviving here in Atlantis, in Pegasus, but living here – thriving here."

"Atlantis needs all of you if we are to continue living here," D's gaze settled briefly on each of the people in the room, "Atlantis needs people like Carson to remind us that each life is a gift meant to be treasured. People like Teyla to remind us that without compassion, we become our enemy. People like Rodney to show us that those ideas we think are impossible are within our grasp. People like Radek to take those impossible ideas and turn them into something of practical use. People like Evan to remind us that honesty and loyalty are qualities we should value highly. People like Sheppard who will do everything they can to make sure we make it home alive at the end of every day," D's gaze landed on Elizabeth, "Atlantis needs people like Elizabeth to show us where that line in the sand is – the one that we do not cross," D looked to Ronon, "Atlantis needs people like Ronon to cross that line when no one else can or will."

"There's a difference between violence," John spoke quietly, "and self-defense."

"Yes," D nodded once, "No offense, Carson, but you'd make a terrible soldier. No one is trying to make you into one. I'm trying to show you," D looked around the room again, "show all of you, that you cannot continue the way you are now if you want to live in a place like this."

"Is that why Atlantis needs you?" Teyla wondered softly, "To point these things out to us?"

"The City doesn't need me," D shook her head, "With one or two minor exceptions, I have no skills or qualities that don't already exist in or can't be taught to someone else."

"D," Elizabeth sighed.

"You didn't explain the last question," John scrubbed a hand over his mouth as he sat forward, "About you being the biggest threat."

"Ronon's response," D answered carefully, "is the reason he is the only other person in Atlantis besides myself that I would trust to make an accurate risk assessment."

"So you'd kill us all just to get what you want?" Rodney snapped out the question.

"He said 'destroy'," D corrected, "There are many ways to destroy a person without actually killing them."

"Doesn't that kind of make you a sociopath?" Rodney asked crossly.

"A psychopath," D shrugged, "Well, I guess psychopathic tendencies would be more accurate."

"What's the difference?" Rodney scowled, "Either way you're admitting you'd kill us given half a chance."

"A sociopath has very little regard for society and its rules," D explained evenly, "Crimes committed by sociopaths tend to be haphazard, disorganized and spontaneous rather than planned. A psychopath can learn to mimic normal human emotion, making them extremely manipulative. Some of them can easily gain people's trust, appearing normal for long periods of time. Crimes committed by a psychopath tend to be meticulously planned, well in advance, including many contingency plans. Sociopaths are prone to violent outbursts of emotion, especially rage. Psychopaths are usually cool, calm, and collected. Psychopaths are more dangerous than sociopaths because the former dissociate emotionally from their actions. We feel very little, if any, guilt for our actions."

"That didn't address the 'you murdering the rest of us' part," Rodney's scowl deepened.

"Yes," D spoke resolutely, "If killing all of you meant accomplishing my goal, I would do it without hesitation. Ronon is right – I have no mercy. Stand in my way and I will obliterate you, by any means necessary."

Rodney's mouth clamped shut at D's response.

"Did you think I was kidding when I said Elizabeth should be willing to kill me?" the predatory smile spread across D's face and her eyes darkened to a deep stormy gray as she spoke calmly, "Or when I told Sheppard that I was the last person he should trust? I am the biggest threat in this room, by any definition of the word, and you should be fucking terrified of me because I simply don't. Care. I find and exploit weaknesses the way normal people breathe air. I manipulate the people around me to serve my purposes without a second thought. I may look like the innocent flower," D's voice dropped to a soft growl, "But I am the serpent under it. You think it was random chance that I asked each of you the questions I did? You think I arbitrarily chose to ask for Lorne's gun? You think I chose Carson and Elizabeth to demonstrate on a whim?" D leaned forward in her chair, "You think I took my jacket off because I was hot? You think I was calm when Ronon held a knife to my throat because I thought he wouldn't hurt me? I calculated and planned the entire conversation before it even started. I asked for Lorne's gun because I knew that he would hand it over without question. I knew what Carson and Elizabeth's choices would be, just like I knew what Ronon's choice would be. I can be calm with a knife against my neck because I have the skills necessary to defend myself. I can be calm because if we ever fought for real – if it ever came down to a choice between my life or his – I would choose mine every single time," D finally looked away from Rodney, scanning the room again as she continued with an icy quietness, "All of you say you want to be here, that you'd do whatever it takes to protect the City, but you balk at not telling the truth simply to get supplies you need. The civilians bitch about having to take orders from the military, people they consider stupid because they have different skills. The military bitches about having to protect the civilians and it never occurs to them to teach the civilians to defend themselves. There's still a split down the middle, even after everything you've been through, scientists and soldiers, and no one seems to realize that both groups need to work together."

"D," Elizabeth warned, "They get it."

"I am not finished, Elizabeth," D snapped coolly, "Whether you people choose to acknowledge it or not, you are at war. If you want to survive in a place like this, you have to be willing to do whatever you can to ensure that happens. If that means you have to beg, borrow, cheat, lie, steal, or kill, then that's what you do. If you can't do something, you either learn how or you find someone that can and make them do it for you. If your conscience cannot handle the thought of taking someone's life, then you find someone who can that is willing to protect you. You work together, your strengths balancing out the others' weaknesses. If you are unwilling to accept this reality and adapt accordingly, then you might as well pack your bags and go back to Earth. Otherwise, you are wasting valuable time and resources that could be better spent on-"

"That's enough, Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth ordered abruptly, "I believe you've made your point quite clear."

"Yes, ma'am," D immediately ducked her head to look at the table, her tone not quite contrite, "My apologies."

"Don't apologize if you don't mean it," Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

"Yes, ma'am," D sank further into her chair.

"And stop ma'am-ing me," Elizabeth sighed wearily as she dropped her hand from her face, "I think this conversation might have gotten a little out of hand."

"_Я вам сказала, что это вероятный результат_," D mumbled under her breath. [Russian: I told you this was a likely outcome.]

"Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth cautioned, "Why don't you go to your quarters to change your shirt? I'm sure it's not comfortable having that hole in the sleeve. Come back when you're done."

"Yes, ma-Dr. Weir," D lifted her jacket off the back of her chair as she stood. She draped the jacket over her left arm as she left the room silently.

"I thought psychopaths weren't prone to angry outbursts," Rodney scoffed nervously, "What happened to cool, calm, and collected?"

"That wasn't anger," Ronon shook his head, "That was impatience."

"Because we did not listen," Zelenka adjusted his glasses, "Because we did not understand what she believes should be easy concept."

"Vaughn's already convinced you, hasn't she, Elizabeth?" John leaned his elbows on the table, "Otherwise you wouldn't have let her go on as long as she did."

"She has," Elizabeth agreed, "D is trying to convince the rest of you as well. I am tired of losing good people. I'm tired of writing letters telling people their family members are dead. If lying to the IOA gets us the resources we need to save even one life, then it's worth it. They're not here and they don't know what we have to deal with on a day-to-day basis. If learning self-defense means that the next time we're attacked I can protect myself or someone else, then every single bruise from training is worth it."

"Can anyone here deny that there was truth in what D said, despite her bluntness?" Teyla looked around the room, "Can any of you deny that, whatever her reasoning, her goal is to ensure the survival of Atlantis and those who call this City home?"

"I'm not going to force any of you into anything," Elizabeth clasped her hands together over the top of the table, "but I am going to ask you to think about what D – what we are saying here. When we started this expedition, stepping through that first wormhole a year and a half ago, we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. We were woefully unprepared and some very good people paid for it with their lives. We have the chance to learn from our mistakes and do things differently."

"You're serious about this?" John studied Elizabeth's face.

"I am," Elizabeth nodded once.

"If we're going to do this," Lorne spoke hesitantly, "we need to be extremely careful."

"No sweeping changes all at once," John agreed carefully, "Baby steps. And if we're considering those other methods of acquisition, we need to be particular with who we trust with that information."

"May I have lists back please?" Radek gestured to the stack of tablets next to Elizabeth, "Now that I know what is going on, this changes priorities."

"I'll take mine as well," Carson sighed, "If we're really doing this, then we may as well do it properly," Carson gave Elizabeth a stern look, "But I'll not be shooting anyone."

"Of course not, Carson," Elizabeth passed the tablets back around the table, "Are we all in agreement then? We do what it takes for Atlantis to thrive here in Pegasus?"

"This is never going to work," Rodney grumbled as he started typing rapidly on his tablet, "The IOA and the SGC are going to find out what we're doing and we're all going to get fired. Or sent to Siberia. Again. Which is probably worse."

"Perhaps we should adjust the supply lists as a group," Teyla suggested, "There will be less overlap that way."

"A good idea," Radek nodded, "You can tell us if any items can be manufactured or traded for here in Pegasus."

"Let's get started then," Elizabeth smiled, "Shall we?"

When D came back into the conference room twenty minutes later, her uniform jacket was back in place and she was pushing a small cart full of food. Lorne and Ronon were sprawled out in their chairs next to each other, discussing the finer mechanics of flamethrowers with an oddly excited glint in their eyes. Elizabeth, Carson, and Teyla were huddled over a laptop and two tablets, trying to determine whether a herd of buffalo or a herd of cattle would the better choice and how they would transport the animals to the mainland. Rodney and Zelenka were shouting loudly in front of the large monitor at the back of the room, trying to determine which already explored areas of the City could be used for storage and which of the scientists could be trusted with the secret inventory. John drifted between the groups, adding his insight to the conversations where he could and trying to keep Rodney and Zelenka from coming to blows.

D quietly passed out the trays of food, smacking Rodney's hand away when he reached for one still on the cart with a quick hiss of 'citrus', before handing him a different one. She took her own tray over to an empty corner of the table and sat down, sinking down comfortably as everyone began to eat. She leaned back in the chair, tilting her head back as she closed her eyes, and a small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

"Not going to eat?" John set down his tray and stretched out in the chair next to her.

"It shouldn't work," D spoke absently, her gentle voice pitched just loud enough for John to hear, "All their different chords together. It should be a cacophony of discordant noise. Instead, it's like a well-written symphony. All the chords woven intricately around and through Atlantis' background to make this startlingly beautiful harmony. I keep trying to understand why it works and I can't. It's terribly distracting."

"It shouldn't work, but it does," John agreed quietly, "There doesn't have to be a reason."

D opened her eyes and rolled her head to look at John without sitting up, "What does it look like to you, when they're all here, content and working together like this?"

John looked around the room; watching as Elizabeth laughed brightly at some comment Carson made while Teyla rolled her eyes at them both, as Rodney started half-shouting with his mouth full of food and Zelenka only yelled over him, and as Lorne started gesturing in the air while Ronon observed attentively.

"It looks like sunset over the ocean," John smiled affectionately, "That moment when the sun starts to dip below the horizon and it lights up the sky and the water with every color you can imagine. All those vivid swirls of color blending together for a few perfect minutes."

"Wow, Sheppard," D snorted as she sat up, "That was almost poetic."

"If you tell anyone I said that," John look back to D in warning, "and I'll tell Rodney you're the one who blackmailed his staff into making sure he eats a healthy snack every couple hours while he's in the labs."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," D starting unwrapping her sandwich, "That doesn't sound like something I would do."

"Of course not," John smirked.

"Red," Rodney shouted impatiently, "Which of the scientists can be trusted with inventory reports?"

"Dr. Kusanagi, obviously," D answered easily, "Dr. Collins, Dr. Coleman, and Dr. Parrish as well. I'd stay away from Drs. Kerrigan and Morrison though, they're a little too by-the-book for what you're looking for."

"I told you so," Zelenka grinned at Rodney.

"Which of the-" Carson started.

"Buffalo," D looked over to Carson, "but transportation will have to wait until the dematerializer is finished next week. There's no way Earth will agree to send us herd animals. You'll have to speak with Chuck when he's off duty or Pat Meyers next time the Daedalus returns. The two of them are responsible for about ninety percent of the black market items being transported into the City."

"Whoops, there goes my hearing again," Lorne rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Who's responsible for the last ten percent?" Rodney wondered.

"No idea," D smiled innocently, "Flame-throwers are impractical, Evan. Too much special training required. Think RPGs with HEAT warheads instead."

* * *

**Special thanks to reader Zoja for fixing my Russian!**


	40. Possible Scenarios

John followed Rodney into his empty lab, watching the scientist wave his hands wildly through the air as he explained his latest breakthrough with the AI. About halfway through a sentence, Rodney's words trailed off but his hands kept waving through the air for about thirty seconds and a confused look came over his face.

"What's up, Rodney?" John wondered.

Rodney rubbed the fingers of his right hand together like something was stuck on them, "Feels like...cold feathers?"

Rodney's eyes narrowed in on his desk and he stomped over, yanking out his chair before he stuck a hand out. After a minute, a smaller hand dropped an iPod with earphones wound around it into his palm. Rodney set it on his desk and put the hand out again. The smaller hand shot out again and Rodney pulled D out from under his desk, helping her stand even as he scowled at her.

"You're getting better," D dropped her hand from Rodney's and looked down to start typing on the tablet she held.

"Thanks, I guess," Rodney huffed, "Who are you hiding from this time?"

"Dr. Parrish," D sighed but continued to type, "David needed someone to play light switch in the new greenhouses the botany department discovered on the Southwest pier last week and Evan's busy doing the Colonel's paperwork. I have more important things to be doing than turning on sprinklers. What did it feel like?"

"The sprinklers?" Rodney questioned, his face scrunching up with a bewildered look.

"Yes, Rodney, the sprinklers," D rolled her eyes without looking away from the tablet, "I meant the sensation from the City. I know you said the Colonel felt like-"

"Never mind that," Rodney interrupted quickly.

"What do I feel like, Rodney?" John smirked.

"Hair gel," D glanced up from the tablet look between Rodney and John, "and sand."

"I hate you so much," Rodney declared.

"You don't hate me, Rodney," D continued typing one-handed as she looked up at him, "So, what was it?"

"Cold feathers," Rodney rubbed his fingers together again at his side, "It didn't start until I was actually in the room though."

"That's because I've asked her to shield me as much as possible and my gene is stronger than yours," D finally stopped typing and tilted her head to the side, "I don't like people knowing where I am all the time. Why cold?"

"What?" Rodney asked warily, "What do you mean 'why cold'? That's just what it feels like."

"I understand the hair gel thing because of the, you know," D gestured to John's head, "But why cold?"

"I don't use hair gel," John shoved his hands in his pockets, "My hair just does this on its own."

Rodney and D both turned to give John a flat look.

"It _does_," John insisted.

"Why does the cold thing make less sense than the feather thing?" Rodney turned back to D.

"Atlantis uses a combination of two different classifications for each person," D explained, "One is more general that she uses for her own purposes and the other is tailored to each person's perceptions. She associates Sheppard with everything beach related. Since she's the ocean and the Colonel is her favorite that makes sense. You, for obvious reasons, associate him with his ridiculous hair, so you think of hair gel. Hence, hair gel and sand combined is Colonel Sheppard. Atlantis has decided that I'm associated with wings, so feathers make sense, but that means the cold part of the classification comes from you. So why cold?"

"_Wings_? Do you just make this stuff up?" Rodney scowled, "You can't possibly know things like that."

"I asked Atlantis after the initial AI tests in the control chair," D raised an eyebrow, "You didn't answer the question."

"You have cold fingers," Rodney mumbled.

D blinked twice before a slight frown creased her forehead, "I do not. They're exactly ninety-eight degrees. Normal body temperature is anywhere from ninety-seven point six to ninety-nine point six degrees."

"The first time you grabbed my wrist," Rodney crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his chin out, "and my face in Elizabeth's office your hands were cold. I remember because you told me to shut up. Quite rudely."

"That's because I was-" D cut herself off abruptly.

"You were what?" Rodney questioned.

"Huh," D looked at Rodney curiously, then set her tablet down on his desk and grabbed a marker, "I never considered the biochemical effects of it."

"The biochemical effects of what?" John asked warily.

D spoke in rapid Greek as she walked over to an empty whiteboard. She stared at it in silence for a moment before she uncapped the marker then began writing out a complex equation.

"I thought you were working, Red," Rodney rotated her tablet so he could see what was on it, "What are you doing now?"

"Not working, really. War games," D answered absently, "Now I'm…contemplating."

"War games?" John looked over Rodney's shoulder to the tablet, "What kind of war games?"

"You can take a look," D paused in her writing, erasing a number towards the beginning before she started again, "That's the tablet I use for predicting, solving, and recording possible scenarios involving Atlantis."

"It says here," Rodney flipped through a couple screens on the tablet, "there's an eighteen percent chance the food services staff will stage a coup and overthrow the current Atlantis leadership."

"That number will change once I finish inputting the remaining data points," D informed him, "Don't worry though, I've already come up with a number of possible solutions to both prevent and rectify that particular situation, most of which don't involve serious injuries or fatalities."

"_Most _of them?" Rodney gaped at D while John took the tablet from him.

"There's an entire section here labeled 'MRM'," John scrolled through the tablet gleefully, "They're all situations involving Rodney. What does the first 'M' stand for?"

"It stands for-" D started.

"Nothing. It doesn't stand for anything," Rodney squeaked in interruption, "How did you…I'm not even going to ask. Why do I have my own section?"

"According to this," John grinned at him, "You have a volatile, bluntly honest personality, somewhat weak interpersonal skills, and powerful scientific mind combined with an innate curiosity. The combination has the potential to cause more than a few problems. And not just with the City. There's an entire subsection dedicated to personnel problems directly involving you."

"What? Let me see that," Rodney snatched the tablet back from John and started flipping rapidly between the screens, "Why do I die in over half these scenarios?"

"While the Colonel and I may find your personality interesting," D stepped back as she finished filling the last of the whiteboard, "and amusing, even refreshing at times, most other people find you abrasive and rude. It could potentially lead to a myriad of conflicts and depending on other contributing factors it could result in your death either by accident or otherwise."

"Oh look, Rodney," John pointed to the tablet, "Here's one where Zelenka finally gets tired of your crap and feeds you lemon-spiked coffee then hides your body in a storage closet for twelve hours while you slowly suffocate."

"Who spends their time thinking of stuff like this?" Rodney scowled at D, "Why do I merit my own section?"

"Don't be upset, Rodney," D studied the board, "All of the senior staff have a separate section."

"Really?" Rodney gave John a triumphant look before he started scrolling through the tablet again, "Here it is. JPS. Hides above-average intelligence, severe hero complex combined with suicidal tendencies, and under-utilized leadership potential."

"Oh yeah?" John drawled as he shoved his hands in his pockets, "How many scenarios do I die in?"

"Less than twenty-two percent," Rodney rolled his eyes, "Apparently you also have a 'propensity for surviving improbable situations'."

"I'm just lucky I guess," John smirked.

"Luck is a social construct," D waved a hand at them, "invented to explain a series of implausible events that people don't understand."

John and Rodney exchanged looks before they both bent over the tablet again, Rodney scrolling through the screens once more.

"The section you're looking for is pass-coded," D looked over her shoulder, "with thirteen separate levels of encryption and a half a dozen firewalls. Even if you managed to get past all that, the file itself is written in a combination of seven languages, including an obscure dialect of Latin that maybe twenty people on Earth can translate."

"Does your description include the words 'massive paranoia' anywhere?" Rodney snarked, "Who has that much protection on their own file? Aren't these supposed to be imaginary scenarios? What could you possibly do that merits that much security?"

"You've no idea what I can do, Doctor," D smiled and took a hold of the whiteboard, pulling it behind her as she came back by Rodney's desk, "I'm taking this board."

"Wait a minute," Rodney protested, "I might need that. You can't just take things from my lab. What are you even using it for anyway?"

"Sometimes it's easier for me to work through something visually," D explained easily, "Especially when it comes to things like biochemistry and large equations."

"Biochemistry?" Rodney questioned, "Are you trying to explain your cold hands with science?"

"Not exactly. I'll bring you another one tomorrow," D assured him, "Are you finished with that tablet or would you two like to amuse yourselves for a while longer? You can keep it for a while if you'd like, just don't share it with anyone else and don't make any changes."

"I'm keeping it as collateral," Rodney decided, "Until you bring me another whiteboard."

"Like that's really the only copy I have," D rolled her eyes as she left, dragging the board behind her, "You won't break the encryption over night, but have fun trying."

"She's so bizarre," Rodney shook his head.

"Does Vaughn hide in here a lot?" John wondered, "You didn't seem that surprised to find her here."

"Unless I'm the one she's hiding from," Rodney snorted, "She says it's because no one comes in here and I have music she likes on my iPod, but I think it's because she likes to scare the crap out of me when I'm not paying attention."

"Under your desk?" John asked carefully.

"We've worked out a system," Rodney shrugged, "If I don't accidently kick her then I get extra blue jello."

"Uh-huh," John grinned and rocked back on his heels.

"It's not at all like that," Rodney rolled his eyes.

"Whatever you say, McKay," John took the tablet from Rodney, "Want to look through more of these instead of playing our game? We can find out which of us dies the grisliest death."

"Yeah, sure," Rodney agreed absently, rubbing his fingers together again at his side as he turned to the door, "Who's a screwdriver covered in engine grease?"

"Huh?" John looked at Rodney curiously, then over to the door, "Oh. That's Zelenka."

"You can do that too?" Rodney whipped his head back to John with a frown, "No fair."

John smirked as Zelenka came into the room, ""You'll just have to practice more."

"Hello, Colonel Sheppard," Zelenka came over to join them, "Dr. McKay, I was hoping I could have a few words with you in private."

"I'll meet you in the mess, Rodney," John waved the tablet at Rodney as he started to leave, "We'll get some snacks. Bye, Zelenka."

Zelenka waited until John left the room completely before he turned back to Rodney, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

"My team has completed the repairs on the jumper," Zelenka informed him, "All systems should be operating within normal parameters again."

"It's about time," Rodney huffed, "I'm not sure why you had to tell me that in private, but whatever."

"The jumper needs to be tested," Zelenka reached up to straighten his glasses, "Perhaps a test flight to the mainland and back, before it is put into more regular use."

"So tell Dr. Weir or Dr. Vaughn," Rodney flapped a hand at the other man, "They're the ones who take care of things like that, not me."

"I have spoken to Dr. Weir," Zelenka explained, "She has scheduled the test flight at 0900 tomorrow morning with one of the pilot the _Daedalus_ left here for training. She requested that a member of the engineering staff accompany the pilot to monitor."

"And?" Rodney prompted impatiently.

"She requested me in particular," Zelenka continued hesitantly, "But I was hoping that I could convince you to take my place."

"Why the hell would I do that?" Rodney scoffed.

"Because," Zelenka clenched his jaw tightly, "I do not enjoy flying. And I would owe you a favor."

"Suck it up, Radek," Rodney ordered, "We all have to do things that we don't enjoy. You should be used to it by now."

"That is not the problem, Rodney," Zelenka shifted on his feet again, "I do not…I would rather not fly at any time much less a test flight."

"You said all the systems were repaired," Rodney narrowed his eyes, "If you and the rest of the idiots working on the jumper did your jobs right for once, it should be perfectly safe."

"Yes, Rodney," Zelenka exhaled sharply through his nose, "And intellectually I know that. I know that the chances of crashing are quite slim, but that does not keep me from imagining my death in a fiery blaze falling from the sky."

"You're afraid to fly?" Rodney asked cautiously.

"Never mind," Zelenka turned away, "Forget I asked."

"You're giving me two days' worth of your coffee rations," Rodney grumbled as he crossed his arms across his chest, "The good stuff – none of that swill you put in the pot in the lab. And you're telling Elizabeth you switched with me. I'm not explaining it to her."

"Yes, yes," Zelenka agreed quickly, "And I will monitor progress from the control room the entire time."

"Fine," Rodney dropped his arms and pushed past Zelenka, "I'm leaving, so get out of my lab."

"Rodney?" Zelenka's voice stopped the other man just as he got to the door.

"What now?" Rodney snapped as he turned back around.

"Thank you," Zelenka said quietly.

"Whatever," Rodney flushed faintly and turned to leave again, "Just don't forget my coffee."


	41. Focused

"I thought you said life support could sustain them for days," Elizabeth stepped into her office where D was waiting, the other woman talking quietly on her radio.

"I said life support would most _likely_ sustain them for days," Zelenka corrected, following John and Elizabeth into the center of the room, "I-I had no idea the ship would sink so quickly or that the cockpit would flood."

"That's when you lost contact?" John questioned.

"If they didn't make it to the rear compartment in time…" Zelenka trailed off.

"They made it," John insisted firmly.

"Still, they are going to be much harder to locate now that they're no longer broadcasting," Zelenka pointed out.

"Then find another way," Elizabeth ordered.

"Look," Zelenka hesitated, "even if we do locate them, our options are limited. They're already deeper than a rescue jumper's windshield can handle."

"I'll handle the rescue," John insisted, "you just worry about finding them. I've already got some ideas."

"Good," Elizabeth looked over to D as she tapped her radio off, "Dr. Vaughn?"

"The oceanography team and several other scientists that should prove useful are waiting in lab 23-B for Dr. Zelenka," D stated evenly, "All data recorded before we lost contact has been copied to the lab. If you need anything or anyone else, Dr. Zelenka, contact me and I'll take care of it."

"Radek?" Elizabeth turned back to him.

"On my way now," Zelenka left the office quickly.

"Keep me informed," Elizabeth called after him then looked back to D.

"We only have two dive certified teams and I've contacted both," D turned to John, "Captain Bosco's team is already on stand-by with a rescue jumper. They're ready to go whenever we get a location. Sgt. Campbell is recalling Lt. Commander Warner's team from their recon of M4H-385. They should be back to the City and ready to leave in an hour and a half. The combat engineers and all on-duty engineering staff are assembling in the jumper bay, waiting for instructions. The quartermaster and all his on-duty staff are standing by to locate and retrieve any supplies you require."

"Do you have current inventory list?" John questioned.

"Here. Use whatever resources you need," Elizabeth handed John a tablet, "Dr. Vaughn, assist wherever you can."

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head.

"Get to work," Elizabeth ordered.

John started scrolling through the tablet as D trailed after him, both of them walking quickly out to the control room.

"If you tell me your plans for retrieving the jumper, Colonel," D followed John up the stairs as he took them two at a time, "I could help you locate whatever you're looking for in the inventory."

"What depth did Zelenka say they were at?" John questioned, "When the windshield cracked."

"1200 feet and falling at a rate of twenty feet per second," D answered quickly.

"Okay, so we assume the jumpers have a safe diving depth of-" John continued.

"A thousand feet to be safe," D nodded, "but the jumper will be well past by the time we can get to them."

"Right," John took large steps down the hallway, "So we just have to figure out a way to lift the jumper-"

"Colonel," D interrupted sharply, "The standard weight of a jumper, plus equipment, plus their combined body weights, plus the added weight of the front section being filled with water – there's no combination of equipment that will allow you to lift that much weight to the surface, much less the City."

"We don't have to lift it all the way to the surface," John insisted, "Just above a thousand feet so we can get to them. Did you ever play that carnival game with the stuffed animals and the claw when you were a kid?"

"I was never a child," D replied smoothly, "Assume the answer to questions like that is always no."

"The idea is to use a claw attached to a long robot arm," John looked up from the tablet and the door to the jumper bay opened in front of him, "to raise the toy out of a pile. We need to make something similar."

"You should've said that in the first place," D stopped behind John just inside the jumper bay, tapping her radio, "This is Dr. Vaughn to Captain Randall. I need your staff to bring Dr. Moore and Dr. McNab's rig for M8R-169 to the jumper bay immediately. The cable, winch, and anything that can be used to attach it to the bottom of a jumper. We'll also need welding and safety equipment," D tapped the radio again, "We don't have anything remotely like a claw, Sheppard. Well, not big enough to hold onto a jumper anyway."

"It doesn't have to be a claw," John said thoughtfully, looking up to the top of the jumper bay, "It just needs to be something that can hold the jumper securely. What about that? Would that do it?"

D followed John's eye line as she tapped her radio again, "Lt. Edgar, this is Dr. Vaughn. We need to borrow the magnetic grapple in the jumper bay. How long will it take your team to uninstall it?" D paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing, "Let me rephrase that, _Lieutenant_. Report to the jumper bay immediately. There will be a team here to help you. If you are not here in five minutes, I'm _personally_ coming to get you. Understood?" D tapped the radio off and cursed quietly under her breath in clipped Russian, "The engineers are standing by and the components should begin arriving shortly. I assume you'll be able to oversee the construction of your 'claw machine', Colonel?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," John eyed D cautiously, "I didn't really need the inventory list, did I?"

"No," D smiled politely, "You didn't."

"Your memory is…" John paused when D raised an eyebrow, "…convenient, but kind of disturbing."

"I've found it useful," D held out her hand for the tablet, "Let me know if you need anything else."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Three miles – a very searchable area," John turned away from the screen, "You've narrowed it down, Radek. You did a good job."

"He's too deep," Zelenka pointed out, "Your grapple's only got a thousand feet of cable."

"Well, we know the jumper should be able to dive at least a thousand, so if he's above two thousand," John argued, "we should still be able to get him with the grapple."

"And if he's deeper?" Elizabeth questioned.

"The jumper most likely is deeper," D studied the screen carefully, "This area of the ocean has a maximum depth of six thousand feet."

"When the Wraith attacked the city," John looked to Zelenka, "you were able to turn the shield into a cloak."

"Yes," Zelenka agreed cautiously.

"Why can't we do the opposite?" John wondered.

"Turn the jumper's cloak into a shield," Elizabeth said thoughtfully.

"That would hold back the water, yes," Zelenka nodded, "but it would take significantly more power."

"We shut down everything we don't need," John suggested.

"But it would take hours to reconfigure," Zelenka pointed out.

"Take what we need," John proposed, "we'll make the changes down there."

Zelenka stared at John for a moment before he took a step back and spoke quickly, "_Oh_! No-no-no-no-no-no – I cannot possibly…uh, no."

"Radek," Elizabeth moved out from behind her desk.

"I-I…" Zelenka looked between Elizabeth and John rapidly, "I can't even swim!"

"There's not a lot of swimming under a thousand feet of ocean," John drawled.

"Look," Elizabeth gave Zelenka a sympathetic look, "I'm not going to order you to go."

"I will," John interjected.

Elizabeth gave John a quick look to silence him before turning her attention back to Zelenka, "All I'm saying is that if Rodney can't turn to you, who can he turn to?"

Zelenka shifted nervously on his feet for a couple seconds before he sighed and nodded, "Right. Give me a few minutes and I'll get my gear."

As soon as Zelenka was out of hearing range Elizabeth turned back to D.

"Can you keep him calm and focused?" Elizabeth asked evenly.

"Not from here, ma'am," D flicked her glance to John then back to Elizabeth, "Which you already knew before you asked."

"The side effects?" Elizabeth leaned back against her desk, clutching the edge with her hands tightly.

"For him, minimal," D answered easily, "But every action has an equal and opposite reaction, ma'am."

"But you can do it?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Yes, ma'am," D agreed.

"I told you I'd let you make your own choices," Elizabeth clenched her jaw, "As much as I could."

"You did, ma'am," D arched an eyebrow, "But you're not going to this time because you believe lives are at stake."

"I'm sorry for this, Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth whispered before she straightened, "You will accompany Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Zelenka in the jumper. You will assist them in whatever form is necessary to retrieve the jumper and ensure the safe return of Dr. McKay and Major Griffin."

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head and turned to leave but stopped in the doorway, "May I say something before I leave, ma'am?"

"Of course," Elizabeth nodded.

D looked over her shoulder and smiled softly, "I know you believe in free will and choice, Elizabeth, and I know you don't believe me when I say this but I'd rather you give me orders than have to choose for myself."

"I know, D," Elizabeth murmured as D went out to the control room, "That's part of the problem."

"What was that all about?" John asked quietly.

"Radek's afraid of flying," Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut as she explained, "and flying in the jumpers in particular. He's still terrified of the things. That's why Rodney went on the test flight in the first place."

"That's not what I meant, Elizabeth," John crossed his arms over his chest.

"As motivated as he is right now," Elizabeth opened her eyes to look up at John, "He'll still have trouble staying completely focused. Every second counts here. D can keep him calm but…it's complicated, John."

"Eventually," John drawled as he dropped his arms, "once we're not under the threat of impending doom, the three of us are going to sit down and you two are going to explain exactly what 'it's complicated' means."

"So after we retire then," Elizabeth said wryly, "Better get going, Colonel."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

John split his concentration between piloting the jumper to the search area and the quiet Czech that drifted around the jumper. Every time he turned around to look, D had her hand high up on Zelenka's shoulder, one or two fingers brushing the skin of his neck above his collar. Zelenka didn't seem to notice, staying remarkably calm as he adjusted the jumper's systems quickly. He made an off-handed comment about sporadic life-signs readings, which John immediately took to mean sea monsters, before he finally announced the shield was ready.

John took the jumper down past a thousand feet, mindful of the thirty minute time limit Zelenka gave him, and began his search. D finally dropped her hand from Zelenka's shoulder, moving to take the co-pilot's seat. About halfway through their time limit, Zelenka cursed under his breath in rapid Czech and D reached behind her to wrap her fingers around his wrist.

"Again, Radek," D spoke calmly as she turned to Zelenka, "In English so Sheppard can understand and without the cursing this time."

"Could be the shields, could be the depth," Zelenka took a steadying breath, "I'm having trouble detecting the jumper. Only…"

"Only what?" John questioned.

"Could you bring up the HUD please?" Zelenka asked politely.

John sent a thought to the jumper and the screen flickered to life in front of him.

"What's that?" John studied the image curiously.

"Your sea monster," Zelenka explained, "It's at least six to eight times as large as this jumper, so let's not venture too closely, okay?"

"Colonel," D narrowed her eyes at the screen.

"Yeah, I see," John nodded, "How are the shields doing?"

D released Zelenka so he could check his laptop.

"Twelve minutes," Zelenka reported.

"All right," John changed course, "Let's check it out."

"Why?" Zelenka inquired nervously.

"It's been swimming in circles in that same spot for quite some time," D explained, "Animals usually only circle like that if they've found something interesting. It could be the jumper, if it hasn't imploded yet."

"You're a very negative person," John informed D.

"The statistical probability of both men surviving," D stated evenly, "is marginal, at best."

"Never tell me the odds," John declared.

"You are not Han Solo," D rolled her eyes, "I blame you, Radek, for the fact that I actually understand that reference now."

"Jumper," Zelenka exclaimed happily, "I have the jumper. The animal's circling around it."

John tapped the console in front of him, "Jumper six, this is Sheppard, come in."

"According to these readings," D looked from the console to John, "It's dead. There's no power left and the rear compartment is almost entirely full with water. The grapple won't be able to lift that much weight."

"We can still try," John protested.

"No," Zelenka shook his head, "It's a matter of simple physics. The cable simply cannot take the strain."

"I'm not coming this far without doing something," John insisted.

"The shield," Zelenka turned back to his laptop, "We can extend the shield between the two jumpers."

"The power requirements for that would be…" D paused, "Can you touch down on the ocean floor, Sheppard? If we're not using the engines that should give Radek just enough power to extend the shield for a few minutes."

"I'll get us close," John nodded.

"Give me just one minute," Zelenka's fingers flew over the keyboard as John set the jumper down gently on ocean floor, "There. Go."

John hit the control to open the hatch at the back of the jumper and D followed him out. John went over to the second jumper and as he tapped his radio.

"McKay, Griffin," John spoke calmly, "Do you copy?"

There was a short pause before Rodney's uneasy voice came over the radio, "_Sheppard_?"

"Hey, buddy," the relief was clear in John's voice, "What do you say you lower your door?"

"_That's-that's probably a bad idea_," Rodney chattered.

"Listen. Long story short, we've converted the cloak into a shield and extended it around your jumper. I'm standing outside right now," John banged on the back of Rodney's jumper.

"_What_?" Rodney wondered.

"All you have to do is open your door and walk to my jumper," John insisted.

There was a small pause before Rodney's voice came over the radio again, "_What if it's not Sheppard_? _What if it's another one of my hallucinations_? _What if it's-it's the pessimist in me just wants it all over with?_"

"I think he's been hallucinating," D spoke quietly to John, "He most likely has a fairly serious concussion."

"_Yeah, but I hear you_!" Rodney continued.

"McKay? What's the hold-up?" John asked carefully, "We need to do this sooner rather than later. This shield ain't gonna hold forever."

"_I can't tell what's real and what's not_!" Rodney exclaimed.

D tapped her radio, "Rodney, open this door right now or I swear to Einstein I will cut a fucking hole in the hatch and drag you out by your big, fat, stupid head."

"_Red_?" Rodney's voice wavered, "_Is that you_?"

"Who the hell else would it be, jackass?" D smiled.

"_Okay_," Rodney agreed warily, "_Better stand back – we've taken on a lot of water._"


	42. Awake

John and D stepped to the side as the jumper door began to lower, water spilling out the sides. As soon as the ramp hit the ground, John rushed inside to see Rodney clutching the bottom of the jumper, shivering violently as he took gasping breaths.

"Are you okay, Rodney?" D helped John roll Rodney over to his back.

"I'm okay," Rodney nodded and started coughing.

"Where's Griffin?" John questioned.

"He was in there," Rodney gestured towards the front of the jumper.

"All right," John and D helped Rodney to stand slowly, "Let's get you home."

"No, I need to decompress," Rodney shook his head weakly as he was lead out of the jumper, "Carter told me to increase the pressure."

"Carter?" John asked warily.

"I mean I did – I did. I told myself," Rodney grimaced painfully, "Oh, my head."

The three of them looked up as the large whale-creature continued circling the jumpers, letting out a loud wail as it passed over them.

"Oh, hey pal," Rodney smiled slightly, "Sorry you don't get to eat me today."

"He's the reason we found you," John continued walking Rodney slowly to the other jumper.

"Really?" Rodney grinned.

"Almost thought we lost you," John spoke quietly as he helped D settle Rodney onto the bench.

"I knew you'd think of something," Rodney winced as John released him to hit the door control, "subconsciously, at least."

"You're not going to like this," D kept hold of Rodney's neck with one hand as she started unzipping his jacket with the other, "but we need to get you out of these wet clothes and get you warmed up."

"What? _No_," Rodney squeaked and slapped D's hands away, "No, no. I don't want to be naked in front of everyone."

"Radek, grab me the first aid kit," D ignored Rodney's protests, removing her hand from his neck to strip his jacket off, "and there should be some emergency blankets back here as well. Sheppard, make sure you adjust the pressure slowly as we ascend so Rodney can decompress. And if you can raise the ambient temperature about five degrees that would help too. As soon as we get back in communications range, I need to speak to Elizabeth."

"Got it," John slid into the pilot's seat and adjusted the controls.

Zelenka set the large first aid kit on the floor and reached up to grab the blankets from their place in the netting. D wrestled Rodney's shirt over his head as he shivered and made irritated noises of protest.

"Do you need help?" Zelenka asked quietly.

D knelt down to unlace Rodney's boots and slip them off, tossing them behind her towards Rodney's jacket.

"Yeah, for a little bit," D pulled Rodney's socks off as he started shaking harder, "Keep him steady while I finish stripping him."

"I don't need to be stripped," Rodney swatted at D's hands as she reached for his belt, "_No stripping_. No stripping!"

"Rodney," D stopped pulling at his clothes as she stood, "Do you have a tail? Three nipples? Fish scales on your chest?"

"What?" Rodney blinked rapidly as D and Zelenka pulled him to his feet, "No. Why would you-"

"Then I'm almost positive you don't have anything I haven't seen hundreds of times before," D picked up Rodney's hand and put it on the side of her neck, "Keep hold of me and I promise not to look any more than necessary."

"Fine," Rodney stopped shivering again as D reached for his belt and pants once more, "Only 'cause I hate being in wet clothes. Nobody better say a word about this to _anyone_."

D and Zelenka got Rodney undressed quickly and dried him off using one of the blankets. D wrapped him in two more blankets, covering his body so only his head and part of his neck were showing and pulling the blankets tighter as he trembled. Zelenka gathered up the wet clothes and dropped them into a pile on the opposite bench as D laid Rodney down. She took her jacket off and folded it neatly, gently lifting his head to put it underneath. Zelenka took his jacket off, folding it and offering it to D as well. She added it to hers underneath Rodney's head as she unzipped the large first aid kit and pulled it over by the bench. Zelenka moved to the front of the jumper as D sat next to Rodney's head, keeping one hand against the side of his neck as she sorted through the kit. Rodney stopped shivering and his eyes drifted closed as the throbbing in his head began to dull.

"Hands aren't cold," Rodney mumbled.

"Not this time," D pulled out several packets of alcohol wipes and squares of gauze and set them on her lap, "I need you to stay awake, Rodney. I'm pretty sure you have a serious concussion. Can you tell me how long you were hallucinating? You don't have to tell me what it was."

"Not the whole time," Rodney struggled to keep his eyes open as D peeled the temporary bandage away from this forehead, "Maybe an hour and a half, two hours?"

"Anything else?" D began gently wiping what remained of the dried blood off Rodney's forehead, "Dizziness, nausea, confusion, any memory loss?"

"A little dizziness," Rodney let his eyes close again, "Mild hypoxia. Had to get the CO2 scrubbers working again. Some confusion and I have no idea about the memory loss."

"Do you know how long you were in the cold water?" D patted Rodney's wound dry with a small piece of gauze.

"Not sure," Rodney admitted uncertainly, "Maybe forty minutes?"

"Stay awake," D commanded lightly, probing the edges of Rodney's wound, "You've got a two inch laceration in your head and it sounds like you've got a grade two concussion. You're in stage one hypothermia. Dr. Beckett's going to have a field day with you when we get back."

"No," Rodney groaned loudly, "No voodoo."

"Rodney?" John asked cautiously, "You okay back there?"

"He's fine," D smiled warmly, "He just realized how long Carson's going to keep him in the infirmary."

"Two days," Zelenka peeked around the corner to look at Rodney again, "Minimum. Probably more."

"Don't worry, McKay," John drawled, "I'll sneak you in some jello."

"And coffee?" Rodney asked hopefully.

"No coffee, Rodney," D settled back against the jumper's wall, "You have a concussion. I don't think you need to be drinking a bunch of caffeine. How long until we're back in radio range, Colonel?"

"Another two minutes," John answered, "Another twenty to get us back to the City. The pressure will be normalized by the time we get there."

"I need to talk to Elizabeth after you fill her in," D used her free hand to smack Rodney's cheek lightly, "Stay awake, Rodney, or I'll make you cold again."

"Why wings?" Rodney fought to open his eyes, "Why does Atlantis associate you with wings? That doesn't make sense. The other people I've figured out make sense. The beach for Colonel Gels-A-Lot and the engine grease for Dr. Keeps-Things-Working. I don't get the wings."

"My hair does this on its own," John insisted firmly.

"No one believes that," Rodney sniffed, "And don't change the subject. Why wings?"

"I'm only answering because you're injured," D sighed, continuing quietly enough that John and Zelenka could barely hear, "She associates me with wings because she misunderstood someone when they called me an angel. I've tried to explain but…"

"You're an angel?" Rodney scrunched his face up as he tilted his head back to look up at D, "You can't be angel – you're too mean."

"That's what I tried to tell her," D smiled down at Rodney, "But people don't usually listen to me, much less an Ancient City that has a mind of its own."

"Atlantis, this is jumper six," John announced, "Come in please."

"_This is Atlantis_," Elizabeth's voice answered immediately, "_Did you find the jumper_?"

"I found it," John agreed, "It was sitting on the ocean floor. No power and both compartments filled with water by the time we got there."

"_I see_," Elizabeth said evenly, "_What about Major Griffin and Dr. McKay_?"

"Major Griffin was in the front section when the windshield shattered," John informed her, "But we were able to rescue Dr. McKay. We're on our way back now and we should be there in about twenty minutes."

"_Do I need to have a medical team standing by_?" Elizabeth questioned.

D reached up to tap her earpiece, "Dr. Weir, can you have Sgt. Campbell move us to a secure channel please? I'd like to speak to you privately."

"_Of course_. _I'll step into my office,_" Elizabeth agreed warily, "_Sergeant_?"

There was a small pause and a quiet click over the radio before Elizabeth spoke again, "_All right, go ahead_."

"How long would it take you to recall Carson from 502?" D asked calmly.

"_Longer than twenty minutes_," Elizabeth responded calmly, "_How bad is Rodney_?"

"I'm fine, Elizabeth," Rodney insisted.

"Shut up, Rodney," D commanded softly, "I have him stabilized for right now, ma'am. He's got a gash in his head, a moderate concussion, and he's mildly hypothermic."

"You_ have him stabilized_?" Elizabeth asked. There was a heavy pause over the radio before she spoke again cautiously, "_Carson's not for him_."

"No, ma'am," D answered, "_Je suis en train d'atténuer sa douleur et j'ai augmenté sa température de sept degrés. Quand je le lâcherai, sa température ne baissera que de deux degré, mais la mienne perdra les sept complet_." [French: I'm dulling his pain and I've raised his temperature seven degrees. When I let go, his temperature will only drop two degrees, but mine will drop all seven.]

"_Va-t-elle remonter après le temps nécessaire_?" Elizabeth questioned. [French: Will it go back up after the right amount of time?]

"_Non, madame_," D responded, "_Ma température corporelle va rester sept degrés plus froide durant la même quantité de temps, mais ensuite, elle devra remonter graduellement_." [French: No, ma'am.] [French: My body temperature will remain seven degrees cooler for the same amount of time, but then it has to come back up gradually.]

Elizabeth exhaled slowly before she spoke, "_What do you need me to do_?"

"The medical team needs to have warm saline ready for Rodney," D replied easily, "He's going to need a scan to see exactly how bad the concussion is and he's going to need about a dozen or so stitches."

"I need clothes," Rodney added, "I'm naked. Well, I'm wearing a blanket. Two blankets, actually, but I'd rather be wearing clothes."

"And he'll need some clothes," D patted Rodney's cheek to quiet him, "Warm ones."

"_Et vous_?" Elizabeth questioned, "_De quoi avez-vous besoin_?" [French: And you?] [French: What do you need?]

"_J'ai besoin que quelqu'un me ramène jusqu'à ma chambre_," D said, "_Une douche très chaude et j'irai mieux dans quelques heures._" [French: I need someone to get me back to my quarters.] [French: A really hot shower and I'll be fine in a few hours.]

"_Êtes-vous sûre_?" Elizabeth inquired, "_Vous devriez peut-être songer à rester à l'infirmerie._ _Marie is there_." [French: Are you sure?] [French: Maybe you should consider staying in the infirmary.]

"It's not my first time, ma'am," D assured her, "It'll be fine. _Je préfère en garder le secret. Je suis désolée de demander mais j'ai besoin que vous me couvriez._" [French: I prefer to keep this a secret. I'm sorry to ask, but I need you to cover for me.]

"_All right_," Elizabeth agreed reluctantly, "_Ronon and Teyla just got back from the mainland_. _Avez-vous besoin des deux_?" [French: Do you need both?]

"_Ca sera sûrement plus facile de retourner jusqu'à ma chambre sans que personne ne voie et aucun des deux ne posera de question_," D admitted. [French: It might be easier to get back to my quarters without anyone seeing and the two of them won't ask any questions.]

"_I'll take care of it_," Elizabeth paused for a minute, "_Put me back on the regular channel, Chuck_._ You still there, John?_"

"Yup," John agreed, "Never left. I really need to learn some French."

"I know a little French," Rodney spoke up, "I don't know what's going on either."

"We'd only switch languages if you learned French," D informed them, "Elizabeth speaks six languages and I speak forty-three."

"_A very good point_," Elizabeth's voice was slightly amused, "_The medical team will be waiting in the jumper bay when you get back_."

"Fifteen minutes. Jumper six out," John pushed the button to cut off the radio, "Hey, Vaughn?"

"Yes, Sheppard?" D started tapping her fingers against Rodney's neck.

"If I turn around and look in the first aid kit," John drawled, "am I going to find any missing supplies?"

"Of course," D replied smoothly.

"Other than whatever you used to clean off the blood," John clarified.

"Colonel," D closed her eyes and leaned against the jumper's wall again, "We're not having this conversation now. Or ever actually."

"What conversation?" Zelenka questioned nervously, looking between John and D.

"Nothing important, Radek," D waved her free hand dismissively, "The Colonel was just concerned that I might have inadvertently been wasting medical supplies."

"Are you playing 'Moonlight Sonata' on my neck?" Rodney wondered idly.

"Huh?" D opened her eyes and looked down at Rodney, "Oh. Yeah. The jumpers make me think of Beethoven. I can stop if it's bothering you."

"No, it's fine," Rodney blinked at D slowly, "The jumpers make you think of 'Moonlight Sonata'?"

"This one does," D gave an awkward one-shouldered shrug, but didn't stop the rhythmic tapping against Rodney's neck, "Evan's jumper makes me think of 'Fur Elise'."

"Oh, I like that song," Zelenka chimed in, "Do you play piano, Dr. Vaughn?"

"Not in eleven years," D shook her head, "I've been kind of busy. How did you recognize the song from only one hand, Rodney?"

"You steal my iPod at least once a week," Rodney reminded her, "Do you really need to ask that question? It's one of my favorites."

"Huh," D hummed thoughtfully as she looked between John and Rodney, "Interesting."

"You steal his iPod?" Zelenka narrowed his eyes at D. When she only smiled politely in response he shifted his curious gaze to Rodney, "She steals your iPod? You do not allow anyone to go near that. You say we are all children who cannot be trusted not to break your things."

"Emphasis on _steals_, Radek," Rodney snarked, "I've tried hiding the damn thing but she keeps finding it. And my coffee. And my secret stash. It's like she's part bloodhound. Or psychic, if you believe in that sort of thing."

"First of all," D gave Rodney a flat stare, "I am not a bloodhound or psychic or any other sort of nonsense that you can come up with in your delusional concussed state. I'm simply observant. Second of all, have you ever considered that maybe you just aren't that good at hiding things?"

"Vaughn makes a good point, Rodney," John grinned, "If I remember correctly, you thought that the bottom of your desk drawer in your _unlocked_ office was a good place to hide your coffee at one point."

"No one's supposed to go into my office. That coffee is for emergencies _only_," Rodney half-whined, "You can't be mean to me right now. I have a concussion."

"Poor baby," D rolled her eyes, "Sheppard, Radek, don't pick on Rodney while his massive brain is temporarily damaged."

"I think he meant you too," Zelenka snorted.

* * *

**Special thanks to reader LillyD11 for helping me with the French translations!**


	43. Groups

As soon as the jumper's hatch opened back on Atlantis, a small swarm of medical personnel piled in, getting Rodney transferred to a gurney and sticking an IV in his arm before he could complain. D stayed out of the way of the medics, but kept her hand on the side of Rodney's neck as the gurney was rolled out of the jumper. John saw Elizabeth talking quietly with Teyla and Ronon in the corner, Elizabeth with a concerned frown marring her forehead. The three of them came over as D was giving the medics a quick rundown of Rodney's condition. The medics began rolling the gurney out of the jumper bay, Radek following closely behind, and D disappeared out the second door between Teyla and Ronon.

John came over to stand close to Elizabeth as the bay cleared of all but a few people, brushing the back of his hand against hers before he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Rodney will be fine," John said quietly, "We have the best medical staff in two galaxies. They'll take care of him."

"I know," Elizabeth nodded, "I recalled Carson too. He'll be back in half an hour. Not that the doctors here can't handle it, but…"

"Rodney's his friend," John finished, "and Carson would want to be here."

"Yeah," Elizabeth let out a short breath as she looked up at John, "If you want to go to the infirmary, I'll make sure everything here gets put back where it belongs."

"I'll help," John drawled, "since your _assistant_ seems to have disappeared with the rest of my team."

"John," Elizabeth hesitated, "I can't…"

"I'm not asking this time, Elizabeth," John held her gaze, "Whatever's going on, I trust you. If you trust Vaughn, then so do I."

"You shouldn't trust her," Elizabeth quoted with a wry smile, "But thank you. For understanding."

"Doesn't mean I won't stop asking," John grinned.

"Of course not," Elizabeth's smile softened, "I wouldn't expect you to."

"Come on," John pulled his hands out of his pockets, "Time to put all our toys back where we found them."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Should you be working?" John pulled up a chair next to Rodney's bed in the infirmary, "Doc said you have a pretty decent concussion."

"I'm not working," Rodney scowled and turned the tablet so John could see, "I'm reading. Carson took my tablet away."

"If Carson took your tablet away," John pointed towards the tablet in Rodney's lap, "Where'd you get that?"

"Would you believe I bribed a nurse?" Rodney tried hopefully.

"No," John snorted, "What really happened?"

"I don't know, actually," Rodney frowned down at the tablet, "Nurse Jamison brought it over after Carson left for his date."

"Jamison?" John stretched out in the chair, "That's the tall, cute blonde, right? Maybe she likes you."

"Ummm," Rodney flushed pink, "Probably not. She basically threw it at me and said if any of the staff caught me working that she'd break my fingers."

"Huh," John bit back a smile, "Weird. So, how long they keeping you in here for?"

"Three days," Rodney groaned, "Which is completely and totally ridiculous. It's just a little bump on the head. I wasn't even hypothermic when I got here – I was barely cold. Red was wrong and if she thinks I'm not going to hold that over her head for at least a week, she's got another thing coming."

"A bump on the head?" John drawled, "I heard you ended up with quite a few stitches."

"Yeah, I guess," Rodney winced as he probed the bandage on his head, "It really wasn't that bad though. I'm more likely to die from an infection. Who knows what kinds of bacteria were swimming around in that water?"

"Pretty sure that's what the antibiotics are for, Rodney," John rolled his eyes, "You have any games on that thing?"

"There's chess," Rodney looked at John warily, "Don't you have paperwork to do or something?"

"Nope," John snatched the tablet from Rodney, tapping the screen to bring up the game, "That's what Lorne's for. I'll go easy on you since you've got a head injury."

"Oh please," Rodney grabbed the tablet back, setting it next to him on the bed, "I could beat you in my sleep."

"We'll see," John grinned.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

John slipped into Elizabeth's quarters late in the evening, unclipping his gun belt and holster as he walked around the corner. Elizabeth looked up from the book she was reading, settled comfortably in her bed and dressed in a plain red cotton nightgown that ended at her thighs.

"How's Rodney?" Elizabeth wondered.

"Good," John leaned down to press a quick kiss to her lips, "A dozen stitches in his head and a concussion. They've got him on antibiotics and painkillers. Carson's keeping him there for three days."

"He'll never last that long," Elizabeth smiled and set the book on her bedside table.

"I bribed one of the nurses with some chocolate to give him a tablet," John pulled open the top drawer of the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed.

"Not for work I hope," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at John as he set his gun inside the drawer and closed it.

"No," John shook his head, "Just something to keep him occupied. I just got done playing chess with him."

"Who won?" Elizabeth wondered.

"I let him win," John smirked as he sat down on the bed to unlace his boots.

"_Let_ him win?" Elizabeth grinned.

"He's concussed," John pointed out, "Winning makes him feel better."

"And I'm sure the fact that letting him win at chess reinforces the 'lazy flyboy' stereotype you try so hard to project has _nothing_ to do with it," Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "at _all_."

"I _am_ a lazy flyboy," John set his boots to the side, "I'll bring Rodney some jello tomorrow and he'll be fine for another day."

"John," Elizabeth watched as he pulled his tee shirt over his head, "You do know that as leader of the expedition, I have complete access to the exceedingly thorough background the SGC ran on you before we left Earth, right? Including, your transcripts from-"

John twisted and leaned over the bed to kiss Elizabeth deeply. As he pulled back slightly, she smiled wryly.

"Was that to buy my silence?" Elizabeth trailed a hand across John's bare chest.

"Maybe," John moved his hand to grip her thigh, "Did it work?"

"Hmmm," Elizabeth slid her hand up into John's hair and pulled him closer, "I'm not quite sure. You should probably do it again, just in case."

"Yes, ma'am," John grinned against Elizabeth's mouth.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

When John's alarm went off early the next morning, he dropped a quick kiss on Elizabeth's cheek before he dressed quietly and went back to his own room. He changed into his blue track pants and an old black tee shirt, then exchanged his dirty socks and boots for clean socks and tennis shoes. After he finished lacing up his shoes, he checked the time on his watch and decided to meet Ronon in his quarters.

John exchanged silent greetings with the few people in the halls as he made his way to Ronon's quarters. He pressed the door chime and when the door slid open a moment later he froze briefly. Teyla stood in front of him wearing what looked like nothing more than one of Ronon's long-sleeved tunics. The dark cream colored garment covered her to her knees, the collar slipping off one shoulder as she raised a hand to smooth down her sleep-mussed hair.

"Teyla," John said awkwardly, "Uh. Hi."

"Good morning, John," Teyla stepped to the side, "Please come in. Ronon is not yet awake."

John came into the room, letting the door slide shut again as he looked around. Instead of finding Ronon in the twin bed in the corner, there was an enormous pile of pillows, blankets, and furs in the center of the room. Ronon was sprawled out face down in the middle of the pile wearing only a pair of thin linen pants in a dark coffee color.

"Ronon," Teyla crouched down to lay a hand on the larger man's back, "Colonel Sheppard is here."

Ronon opened his eyes, lifting his head slightly to glance at John before he grunted and his head fell back to the pillows under him.

"Too many clothes," Ronon grumbled.

"I do not believe John is interested in joining you in bed at this time," Teyla's eyes twinkled with amusement as she looked back at John's confused face, "He is here to collect you for your morning run."

"Too early," Ronon rolled to his side and pulled the edge of a blanket from the pile around his shoulders.

John looked over as the bathroom door slid open and D emerged, clad only in a black sports bra and matching boy shorts, squeezing the water from her long hair with a rough towel.

"Shower's free, Teyla," D announced, "Morning, Sheppard."

"Morning," John replied automatically, his gaze shifting rapidly between the three people in the room.

"Thank you, D," Teyla stood from the nest of blankets, pausing to brush her hand down D's arm, "Ronon's room has been cleaned and you left well over an hour ago to swim. Did you sleep at all?"

D laid a hand over Teyla's where it rested at her elbow, "I'm fine, Teyla."

"That was not an answer to my question," Teyla raised an eyebrow as she dropped her hand, picking up her neatly folded pile of clothes before she headed to the bathroom, "Perhaps you should try to wake Ronon."

D waited until the bathroom door slid shut behind Teyla before she threw the towel at it, grinning widely as she launched herself into the pile of blankets. She landed on top of Ronon, who gave a pained grunt and shoved her to the side.

"Go away, _kuahine_," Ronon rumbled.

"Nope," D stuck her hands under one of the pillows and withdrew two curved black knives, slipping the index finger of each hand through the ring on the end and twirling them around, "Get up and go run with the Colonel. He'll pout for at least an hour if you don't."

"I am a grown-ass man," John frowned, "I do not pout."

"Yes, you do," Ronon swatted D on the hip as he sat up, scrubbing his other hand over his eyes, "Stop playing with your knives in my bed."

"Technically, your bed is in the corner, _kunane_," D rolled to her feet and moved over to the short dresser to set the knives down, "That's really more of a nest."

"Did you clean my room?" Ronon narrowed his eyes as he looked around the room.

"Yes," D bent to pick up her clothes from the precisely folded pile next to the dresser, "I didn't move anything important though."

"Why?" Ronon asked warily.

"It was kind of messy," D pulled her uniform pants on, tightening the belt around her waist, "and I was awake. And bored."

Ronon snorted and grumbled under his breath in Satedan as he stood.

"You're the one who wanted me to come here instead of my quarters," D slipped her shirt over her head and pulled the zipper to the base of her throat, "Don't curse at me for cleaning. You're cranky this morning."

Ronon glared at her as grabbed a pile of pillows and blankets from the ground, dumping them onto his bed.

"Not enough sleep," Ronon scooped up the rest of the pile on the floor and added them to the bed.

"That's not my fault," D insisted, bending to lace her boots up tightly, "I was quiet."

"But you never stop moving," Ronon walked over to press a kiss to D's temple as she straightened, "and Teyla snores."

"You snore too," D rolled her eyes as she drew her hair into a low ponytail, twisting it into a quick bun and pinning it in place with pins from the top of the dresser, "and you better not let her hear you say that."

"Two minutes," Ronon looked over to John before he waved a hand over the panel to open the bathroom door and stooped to pick up the wet towel in front of it, "I'll be ready."

The door to the bathroom closed silently behind Ronon. John watched as D started sliding the weapons lined up on the top of the dresser into place; the two curved knives disappeared into the flat holster behind her back, a red swiss-army knife got slipped into her left pocket, a collapsible black baton slipped into the outside of each boot, and the large, digital watch strapped around her wrist. After everything was in place, she slipped her jacket on and pulled the zipper up halfway.

"Did you really add a garrote wire to your watch?" John asked warily.

"Yes," D walked over to the bed and started folding blankets.

John cleared his throat, "So you and Teyla stayed here last night?"

"We did," D stacked the pillows at the head of the bed, the largest in the back and the smallest in the front.

"With Ronon," John continued.

"Yup," D nodded.

"All in one bed – nest, whatever," John paused, "With very few clothes."

"It would've been uncomfortable to try to fit all three of us in the bed," D set the last blanket in the stacked pile at the foot of the bed, "And considering Ronon and I both sleep in the nude on a regular basis, we were actually dressed quite modestly when you arrived."

"Right," John looked over to the bathroom as Ronon emerged again, fully dressed this time.

"Not running, _kuahine_?" Ronon took several knives from the top of the dresser and started hiding them in his clothes.

"No, I went swimming already this morning," D shook her head, "I've got some work to catch up on from yesterday afternoon and I need to stop by the infirmary for a bit."

"Sparring later?" Ronon wondered.

"1500," D smiled as she headed towards the door, "I'll meet you in the gym. Hey, Sheppard?"

"Yeah?" John looked down at D as she paused next to him.

D stood up on her toes to whisper in his ear, "You have sex hair."

"I-_what_?" the tips of John's ears pinked.

"Might want to do something about that," D smirked as she left the room, "Try some hair gel."


	44. Down

Rodney closed his eyes and laid the tablet down in his lap, leaning his head back against the pillows and willing the throbbing to disappear from behind his eyes. He was in the middle of debating whether he should call one of the nurses hovering around to ask for another painkiller when the sensation of cold feathers slid over his fingers.

"How bad is your head?" D asked quietly.

"I'm fine," Rodney insisted as he opened his eyes to meet D's concerned stare.

D raised an eyebrow at him.

"It's throbbing a little," Rodney admitted with a sigh, "I've been trying to read, but it's hard to concentrate on the bright screen."

"Move over, Rodney," D commanded gently, unzipping and removing her jacket to lay it over one of the nearby chairs.

"What?" Rodney questioned warily, "Why?"

"You're bored," D took the tablet from Rodney's lap and shoved lightly at his hip, "You don't like to take painkillers because they make your brain fuzzy but you can't concentrate on anything else to take your mind off the pain. How am I doing so far?"

"You already know you're right," Rodney huffed as he shuffled to one side of the hospital bed, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm off-duty for the night," D climbed into the bed, "I'll read to you for a while."

"Why?" Rodney looked down at D curiously as she settled against his side, laying one of her hands over the back of his.

"I like to read," D scrolled through the tablet one-handed, "Physics articles? No wonder your head hurts. Rodney, _everything_ on this tablet is science related."

"I like science," Rodney grumbled, "What's wrong with that?"

"You're supposed to be relaxing," D set the tablet on her lap and looked over to Rodney, "How do you feel about Jules Verne?"

"Fine, I guess?" Rodney replied.

"'Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea' is sort of science related," D started rubbing her thumb along the back of Rodney's hand, "Do you want to hear it in French or English?"

"I don't have either on my tablet," Rodney laid his head back against the pillows.

"Yes, but luckily for you," D smiled softly, "I have a very good memory and I've read it in both languages. So French or English?"

"Why doesn't it surprise me that you've read Jules Verne in the original French, Red?" Rodney snorted and closed his eyes as the painful sensation in his head started to lessen, "That sounds like exactly the sort of thing _you_ would do," Rodney's voice softened into near-fondness as he continued, "Idiot. I doubt I'll understand much of the French, though, so you'd better make it English. Are you going to do all the different voices too?"

"Don't push your luck, jackass," D rested her head against Rodney's shoulder and took a careful breath before she started to recite, "_The year 1866 was signalized by a remarkable incident, a mysterious and puzzling phenomenon, which doubtless no one has yet forgotten. Not to mention the rumors_…"

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

John stopped in the doorway to the section of the infirmary where Rodney was staying. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he studied the scene in front of him. Rodney was laying in his bed, eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face, his breathing steady and even. D was curled up next to him in the bed, head resting against Rodney's shoulder and one of her legs draped over his, her booted foot tucked carefully between his calves. Her eyes were also closed and the fingers of her right hand traced patterns over the skin of Rodney's forearm as she spoke in calm, soothing tones. At first, John thought Rodney was asleep, until D apparently said something amusing and Rodney smiled widely.

After a minute of watching them, John pushed off the wall and stepped fully into the room. D's hand faltered on Rodney's arm and she opened her eyes to meet John's curious gaze, but her narration continued steadily. As John settled into an empty chair next to the bed, D resumed the patterns on Rodney's arm. John stretched his legs out in front of him, getting comfortable as he recognized the passage D was reciting. Once John relaxed into the chair, smiling a little at the story, D stopped staring at him and cautiously shifted her glance to the patterns over Rodney's arm.

About twenty minutes after John arrived, Teyla and Ronon walked in silently. D met each of their eyes momentarily, her movements over Rodney's arm staying steady this time. Teyla smiled softly at Rodney and D, then sat down in the chair with D's jacket, careful not to disturb it. Ronon grinned and hopped up onto the nearest gurney as D rolled her eyes at him without pausing in the constant flow of words.

Carson came in a short time later, a small, perplexed frown on his face as he saw the team gathered around Rodney's bed. He opened his mouth to interrupt D's story, but John gave a quick shake of his head and gestured to the empty seat next to Teyla. Carson sighed softly and a tired smile spread across his face as he sank down in the chair.

As D was nearing the end of the story, Elizabeth appeared in the doorway, a warm smile overtaking her features as she stepped closer. D's hand faltered once more and she finally paused in the middle of a sentence. Elizabeth brushed a hand over the ankle not on top of Rodney and nodded before taking the final empty chair next to John. D continued the story, picking up exactly where she left off as she began tracing a new pattern on Rodney's arm.

When D finally finished the recitation, Rodney blinked open his eyes slowly and looked around to see the small group of people watching him.

"Uh, hi," Rodney's cheeks pinked, "When did everyone get here?"

"I got here over an hour and a half ago," John drawled, "Teyla and Ronon got here a little bit after me, Carson after them, and Elizabeth only showed up about twenty minutes ago."

"We did not want to disturb you," Teyla smiled softly, "You seemed to be enjoying the story."

"And it was entertaining to listen to," Elizabeth agreed, "Jules Verne?"

"Yes, ma'am," D nodded as she sat up next to Rodney, "'Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea'. Rodney was giving himself a headache trying to read physics journals. I convinced him that science fiction would be less painful."

"You should've called one of the nurses, Rodney," Carson scolded as he stood, "How long has it been since you've had any pain medication?"

"A while?" Rodney looked at D curiously as she moved off the bed, "Since before we started the story. My head doesn't hurt, though. I'm fine, really."

"I'm sure you are," Carson gave D a quick look before he started checking Rodney's bandage, "But you'd best let me look at you anyway."

"He's fine, Dr. Beckett," D retrieved her jacket from behind Teyla, turning to Elizabeth as she spoke again, "_J'ai réussi à retirer sa douleur gentiment alors que je le distrayait avec l'histoire. Il est paré jusqu'à demain matin, madame_." [French: I managed to draw out his pain slowly as I distracted him with the story. He'll be fine until tomorrow morning, ma'am.]

"_Vous n'aviez pas besoin de faire ça_," Elizabeth said quietly. [French: You didn't need to do that.]

D ducked her head to look at the floor as she pulled on her jacket, "_Il souffrait_, _madame_." [French: He was in pain, ma'am.]

"_Et maintenant_," Elizabeth sighed, "_vous souffrez à sa place_." [French: And now, you are instead.]

"Not for the first time, ma'am," D replied softly as she zipped her jacket halfway up, "And certainly not for the last."

"Why do you look like you're in trouble?" Rodney asked warily, looking between Elizabeth and D, "You said you were off-duty for the night."

"I was," D looked over to Rodney, "I am. Dr. Weir was worried I was disturbing your recovery. But I assume Carson has discovered by now that you are doing quite nicely."

"Aye. He looks to be doing well," Carson pulled a small penlight from his pocket and shined it in each of Rodney's eyes, "You're not in any pain, Rodney?"

"Nope," Rodney shook his head, "I feel pretty good actually."

"What was the story you were telling, D?" Teyla asked curiously, "It is nothing like any I have read before. Is it well known on your planet?"

"It's called 'Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea'," D answered easily, "It was written by a man named Jules Verne on Earth about a hundred thirty-six years ago. It was originally published in French, but it's been translated to many different languages over the years."

"And because you're so weird, Red," Rodney snorted as Carson moved away to sit back in his chair, "You can recite at least two different versions of the story."

"Eidetic memory, Rodney," D reminded him, "I have everything I've ever read memorized. I studied numerous classical books for my linguistics degree."

"You remember every book you have ever read?" Teyla wondered, "Even to the point you can recite them aloud many years later?"

"I remember _everything_ since I was three years old," D corrected, "Not just the things I have read. It's simply a matter of recalling a particular memory."

"And how old are you now?" John questioned.

"Twenty-seven or twenty-eight," D replied hesitantly.

"Well, which is it?" John prompted, "Twenty-seven or twenty-eight?"

"I…" D paused and her eyes flicked to Elizabeth, "…I'm not really sure."

"How do you not know how old you are?" Rodney scowled.

"I don't know when my birthday is," D ducked her head to look at the floor again, "So I'm not sure if I've turned twenty-eight yet this year."

"Wait a minute," Rodney straightened in the bed, "You remember everything since you were three years old, but you don't remember your name or your birthday? How is that even possible? How can you forget something that important? Something that basic?"

"I didn't forget, Dr. McKay," D turned to leave, "From the time I can remember, no one ever called me by my birth name and time was measured only by success or failure. If you'll excuse me, I have some things to do before tomorrow," D inclined her head to Elizabeth as she stepped past, "I'll stop by your quarters later with those reports, ma'am."

Rodney's scowl deepened as he watched D leave the infirmary quietly.

"What just happened?" Rodney looked around at the gathered people, "Did I say something wrong? Is she mad at me?"

Ronon glared at Rodney for a second, then turned to Carson.

"Did the concussion make him stupider?" Ronon wondered.

"That was probably my fault," John drawled, "I shouldn't have pressed."

"I don't understand what the big deal is," Rodney huffed, "Why did she get upset? It's not like it's _my_ fault she doesn't know those things."

"I believe that D prefers not to dwell on such things," Teyla stated diplomatically, "And so we should not either."

"How long until Rodney can be released, Carson?" Elizabeth asked evenly.

"I think he'll be okay to leave the infirmary tomorrow afternoon," Carson responded easily, "But he'll be on medical leave for at least another ten days. Light duty for a week after that."

"Two and a half weeks without McKay," John smirked, "It'll be almost like a vacation."

"Gee, thanks," Rodney pouted.

"Does this mean our upcoming missions will be rescheduled?" Teyla inquired.

"All except the one to M78-013," Elizabeth nodded.

"Which one is that again?" Ronon wondered.

"Isn't that the planet we trade for those little," John made a wiggling motion with his hand, "rock things?"

"You mean the mineral that's letting us repair some of the City's secondary power conduits?" Rodney snarked, "Those 'rock things'? The ones that will help us stop wasting what little power we have in the City?"

"Yeah, those," John agreed.

"Yes, that planet," Elizabeth smiled, "But I think that your team will still be able to conduct negotiations without Rodney there."

"It might even be better this time," John nodded solemnly, "Last time we were there, Teyla had to spend an hour apologizing for McKay."

"Hey!" Rodney protested, "Allergies are nothing to laugh at. That bread tasted suspiciously like it had citrus baked into it. I could have _died_."

"You spit out your half-chewed food onto the plate of the Mayor's wife," Teyla raised her eyebrow at Rodney, "and then proceeded to steal the Mayor's goblet of water to rinse out your mouth."

"Do I get to stay here too?" Ronon asked hopefully.

"If I have to go," John shook his head, "So do you."

"Perhaps it would be best for everyone," Teyla spoke calmly as she turned to Elizabeth, "if I was accompanied by Major Lorne's team."

"I'll see if I can arrange that," Elizabeth pressed her lips together to hold back her smile.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

John pressed the door chime to Elizabeth's quarters and waited until the door slid open a moment later. He walked in to see Elizabeth sitting in the corner of her couch, a steaming tea cup next to her, and a worn paperback novel in her hand. She had discarded her shoes next to the door as she normally did, wearing only her red tee shirt and gray uniform slacks. The thing that made John stop just inside the doorway was the fact that D was kneeling on the floor next to Elizabeth, her jacket folded neatly beneath her knees and her long hair loose around her shoulders. D had her head resting on Elizabeth's thigh, her eyes closed and a content smile on her face as Elizabeth absently ran her fingers through the dark burgundy strands of hair. D shifted slightly when the door closed behind John, but Elizabeth made a quiet hushing noise and D settled again.

"John," Elizabeth set her book next to the cup of tea, "I wasn't expecting you tonight."

"I can go," John offered uncertainly, "It's not important."

"I assume you're not here for anything work-related," Elizabeth smiled warmly, "Or you would have called first."

"No," John shook his head, "I mean, yeah, I would have called first."

"Just give us a minute," Elizabeth looked down to D and rested her hand on the back of D's neck, "_Evigilo_." [Latin: Wake up.]

D blinked open her eyes slowly, tilting her head to look up at Elizabeth with a soft smile.

"Feeling a little better?" Elizabeth asked gently.

"_Quod sic, Domina_," D answered serenely, "I always feel better with you." [Latin: Yes, Mistress.]

"I'm glad," Elizabeth gave her a small smile, "After I bring you up, you're going to grab a quick snack in the mess, then go to your quarters and rest."

"You are sending me away?" D's voice wavered as she tipped her head down to look at Elizabeth's lap and one hand curled around Elizabeth's ankle, "Have I displeased you, _Domina_?"

"Only for the night," Elizabeth moved her hand to place a finger under D's chin, tilting her head back to meet the young woman's eyes again, "You have not displeased me, _angelus_. We've talked about this. Do you remember?" [Latin: angel.]

"But…" D paused and took a steady breath before reciting carefully, "I am to be independent and only rely on you for occasional control, not constant. I will not be punished for expressing my opinion or disagreeing with yours. I am valuable in my own right and my worth is not based solely on pleasing you."

"That's right. _Bonum puella_," Elizabeth shifted her hand to D's cheek, "Following my orders means you have to act according to the new rules I've laid out for you." [Latin: Good girl.]

"_Quod sic, Domina_," D turned her head to press a small kiss to Elizabeth's palm.

"_Assurgo_," Elizabeth commanded as she dropped her hand to her lap. [Latin: Rise up.]

John watched as D's entire demeanor shifted from relaxed and open to stiff and angry. Her fists clenched at her sides as she stood.

"Did you mean it when you said I wouldn't be punished for expressing an opinion, ma'am?" D asked coolly.

"Of course," Elizabeth nodded.

"Then I'd like the express my…" D looked over her shoulder at John for a second then back to Elizabeth, "_displeasure_ with the fact that you brought me up with someone else here."

"And what would you have had me do instead?" Elizabeth asked cautiously.

"Send me back to my room," D's jaw tightened, "and bring me up tomorrow morning. Make me sit in the corner quietly for the night. Make me attend the both of you until he leaves. Almost anything would have been preferable to this."

"All those choices would have been counterproductive," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at D's sharp tone.

"It would have been _counterproductive_," D stressed the word heavily, "if I had not immediately recognized Colonel Sheppard as a non-threat and decided to kill him. Bringing me back from that state without even bothering to tell me someone else is in the room is dangerous for everyone involved. I understand that this…arrangement makes you somewhat uncomfortable, but you have to understand that this is necessary part of my life. I need a leash. I need an anchor. If you can't accept and handle that," D turned on her heel and strode towards the door, stepping around John before he could move out of the way and stooping to grab her boots from by the door, "then send me back to Jack. You can explain to _le soldat_ what's going on, Elizabeth. I won't." [French: the soldier]

* * *

**Special thanks to reader LillyD11 for helping me with the French translations!**


	45. Simplification

**Warning: this chapter contains references to past abuse, both psychological and physical, against an underage person. Please do not read if it will upset you.**

* * *

"Are you going to stand there and stare at me all night?" Elizabeth bent down to retrieve D's forgotten jacket, laying it over the arm of the couch next to her, "If you're staying, you can at least come sit down."

"Right," John moved forward to sit next to Elizabeth on the couch, "What did Vaughn call me?"

"_Le soldat_," Elizabeth reached over to pick up her cup, "It's French. The soldier."

"I'm Air Force," John corrected automatically, "We're airmen. Soldiers are in the Army."

"I'm pretty sure she knows that," Elizabeth sipped at the tea, "I think it's more of a general classification to her. She calls Rodney _le scientifique_ – the scientist."

"Oh," John nodded, "Sure."

Elizabeth took another small sip of tea, then set the cup down with a quiet sigh.

"You can ask this time," Elizabeth spoke calmly, "You'll actually get an answer. Other than the words 'it's complicated'."

"I'm not sure I know the right questions to ask," John admitted cautiously, "I think Vaughn is sleeping with my team. She spent the night with Ronon and Teyla last night, all three of them mostly naked, and she was snuggling with Rodney in the infirmary for two hours this evening. Then I come in here and she's…half in your lap and threatening to kill me. Again."

"Feeling left out?" Elizabeth smirked, "I could snuggle with you half-naked, if it would make you feel better."

"You're trying to distract me with thoughts of you half-naked," John put his arm around Elizabeth's shoulders and pulled her closer, "but it's not going to work this time. Explain to the dumb flyboy what's going on, Liz."

"You're not a dumb flyboy, John," Elizabeth insisted as she leaned against his shoulder, "And the whole situation really is…"

"If you say complicated," John warned, "I'm not kissing you for a month."

"A whole month?" Elizabeth laughed, "You'd never make it that long."

"Fine, a week," John amended, "I could make it a whole week," he dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head, "Probably."

"I was going to say," Elizabeth continued with a smile, "The whole situation is still a little strange to me. To start, I highly doubt D is having any sort of intimate physical relationship with either Ronon or Teyla, though neither is completely out of the realm of possibility. When Ronon first came here and D did her assessment of him, she noticed that he was touch-starved from being alone on the run for so long. My understanding is that she took it upon herself to touch him as much as possible in a non-combat setting in order to help re-acclimate him to society. It didn't occur to me how much we, as a group, touch each other on a day-to-day basis until she pointed it out to me. From what I've seen, Teyla does the same casual-touching thing, so either D said something to her or, more likely, Teyla figured out what was going on and decided to help too."

"So they were, what," John wondered, "cuddling naked all night?"

"It's possible, yes," Elizabeth agreed, "The people in Pegasus don't seem to have the same hang-ups with modesty that we grew up with on Earth. I doubt anything more than some aggressive cuddling happened, though. The three of them seemed to have formed a make-shift family. I don't think they really see each other in a sexual way. Besides, D doesn't let down her guard enough to _sleep_ with anyone other than me in the room, much less let herself be vulnerable enough to have any sort of serious intimate relationship."

"Aggressive cuddling," John snorted, "That sounds exactly right."

"As for Rodney," Elizabeth hesitated slightly, "Well, to be completely honest, I think D spends time with Rodney because he's one of the few people that can challenge her intellectually. She can't decide whether she likes him or hates him. Or both."

"And how does that lead to snuggling in the infirmary?" John asked curiously.

"You know, I actually asked her that this evening," Elizabeth looked up at John.

"And what was the answer?" John inquired.

"Apparently," a smile twitched onto Elizabeth's face, "She was always planning on reciting 'Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea' to annoy him. She thought it would be amusing, considering what put him in the infirmary in the first place. Then she got there and he was in pain so she decided to try to make him feel better."

"It seems cuddling is the answer to a lot of problems tonight," John replied carefully, "Is that what was going on in here?"

"Yes and no," Elizabeth sighed and reached for her cup, "And believe it or not, what you witnessed tonight was actually progress. Six months ago, she wouldn't have admitted she was upset with me and she would've tried to kill you for witnessing what you did. She definitely wouldn't have given me approval to explain," Elizabeth sipped the tea and set it back down, "which she did, in her indirect way."

John waited in silence as Elizabeth tucked her feet under her on the couch, making herself comfortable and gathering her thoughts before she started speaking again.

"The people D worked for before," Elizabeth spoke quietly, "Not the Trust, but the people she worked for _before_ – they started training her at an extremely young age. They conditioned her, using terribly cruel techniques, to have all the particular personality traits that they wanted. Intelligence, ambition, violence. But above all else, they wanted her to be obedient. Any spark of rebellion, any individual thought, even the tiniest failure resulted in severe punishment. They tried to condition her to be completely submissive. Even with everything they did, she never quite gave in fully. When they discovered that she could still interpret orders in a different manner that what they intended, they decided what they were doing wasn't enough. They took it a step further."

Elizabeth stood tersely and started pacing the room.

"They programmed her with what she calls absolute commands," Elizabeth continued, "A specific word that elicits a precise response with no room for interpretation. One word and she becomes a blank slate. Totally compliant and eager to please. She won't even move without an explicit order. It's like putting her into a trance or something. I don't really know how to explain it properly."

"Subspace," John spoke thoughtfully, "I've seen it happen before. In college there was this-" John stopped himself abruptly and waved a hand towards Elizabeth, "It's not important. It sounds like a twisted version of subspace."

"That's almost exactly what Dr. Heightmeyer said," Elizabeth stopped pacing to stare at John curiously, "I had to ask Kate's advice at one point. I couldn't give her all the exact details, but she said it sounded like I was describing a person experiencing deep subspace brought on by extreme brain-washing or programming techniques. She'll do quite literally anything she's told when she's like that. I could tell her to slice off her finger and she'd only ask me which one. Had I actually asked her to sit in the corner quietly for the rest of the night, she would have done so without question. She wouldn't even fall asleep like that unless I gave her a command. And they used to leave her like that for days at a time. They used her like some sort of living doll," Elizabeth started pacing again, "They did so many terrible things that no one should ever have to experience, much less someone barely old enough to be in middle school. And since she's never known any better, she believes it's necessary. They made her believe that she needs to be put under like that – to be kept on a leash. She truly believes, down to her very core, that she is a tool meant to be used that way."

"What happens when the bad guys figure all this out?" John questioned warily, "If someone accidently stumbles on the right combination of words to drop her down?"

"First, all the commands are in Latin," Elizabeth explained carefully, "It's a dead language. Only a handful of people on Earth know how to read it, much less speak it."

"In your office during the whole Doranda thing," John remembered, "When you thought she was going to hurt McKay, you said something and she backed off."

"She wasn't going to hurt Rodney," Elizabeth corrected, "She was going to kill him. _Would_ have killed him, and anyone other than me who got between them, if I hadn't told her to stop. _Cessare_ – stop. It's basically a command to do exactly that – stop her in the middle of an attack."

"That's…hmmm…" John's forehead crinkled in thought, "Second?"

"Second," Elizabeth took a steadying breath, "The commands will only work from me. Her conditioning makes her answer to a single authority at time – the person designated her 'Master'. Apparently, there were a few problems in the beginning when she was given contradictory orders by more than one source. She'll willingly follow any verbal order given by her master and from what I've seen so far, she _can't_ disobey one of the Latin commands."

"Verbal orders?" John questioned.

"That's how she figured out she was working for the Trust," Elizabeth nodded, "She hadn't seen her handler in almost a year. She was receiving instructions through encrypted emails. If she had still been bonded when she – things could have gone very differently…" Elizabeth trailed off with a shake of her head, "The system of control is set up so she basically imprints onto her handler. Each command, each verbal order, each time she's put under, all of it reinforces the conditioning she's received. The more orders she's given, the more dependent she becomes. Like an addiction."

"Have you thought about trying some sort of de-programming?" John wondered.

"Unfortunately," Elizabeth sighed and sat back down next to John, "Dr. Vaughn's entire existence is classified at the highest levels. I shouldn't even have told _you_ as much as I did. Finding someone with the necessary clearance levels who also has the training and patience needed for something like this has proven difficult. And as I said before, D really doesn't know any better. She'd have to shift her entire perception of the world, the only way of thinking she's ever known. I don't think she's in a mind-set yet that she can handle something that monumental without shattering everything she is."

"What about just not giving her any direct orders?" John put his arm back around Elizabeth's shoulders, "If Vaughn can still interpret things the way she wants, you could phrase things so what you say is more suggestion than order. Do things gradually."

"Have you ever tried _not_ giving orders," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at John, "to a woman who is not only a master at manipulation and deception, but can also observe and remember even the smallest detail, and who researched and memorized pretty much your entire life before you ever even met?"

"Well, no," John drawled, "I can't say that I have."

"I gave her three orders our first day on the _Daedalus_," Elizabeth said wryly, "I didn't even realize it until afterwards. After only a week, we had to come to an agreement. I would give her orders when it was important and she would stop manipulating me into giving her orders for every little thing."

"So tonight," John asked carefully, "You put Vaughn down because…?"

"She asked me to," Elizabeth answered evenly, "She used to come by once a week, almost begging. I refused at first, but she started deteriorating. She started sleeping and eating less, training more, and then Doranda and Rodney's mouth happened. That night was when I went to talk to Kate. She said that cutting D off cold turkey like that was causing her to destabilize. So the next day, we amended our agreement. As long as she takes proper care of herself, she can come to me when she feels she needs and I…put her under."

"If that's the case," John replied easily, "I'm surprised I haven't run into the two of you earlier."

"You shouldn't be," Elizabeth snorted indelicately, "Dr. Vaughn did an analysis of when you're most likely to show up in my quarters and depending on what 'interpersonal activities we were indulging in'," she used her hands to make air quotes around the words, "how long you were likely to stay. She showed me. It was…shockingly thorough. And accurate."

"Right," the tips of John's ears pinked, "That's…disturbing."

"The only reason D was here tonight," Elizabeth frowned slightly, "was because she was upset about answering your questions in the infirmary. According to her, something about being here in Atlantis distracts her, messing with her concentration enough that she speaks without thinking first. Or responds to a question honestly when she doesn't want anyone to know the answer."

"And that's a bad thing?" John questioned.

"To her, it is," Elizabeth agreed, "She sees it as a disruption to her self-control. A failure on her part to control her own actions. The night after that first staff meeting she attended, when she thought she spoke out of turn, she wanted me to punish her," Elizabeth's fists clenched angrily, "Wanted me to beat the failure out of her. Couldn't understand why I wouldn't. It took _weeks_ before she stopped flinching every time she did something she thought was wrong. _Months_ before she stopped asking me to punish her. It'll probably be _years_ before she completely stops asking me to put her down into some sort of _trance_. All because some stupid old men with god complexes tried to create something they didn't understand and couldn't control, all in the name of patriotism and scientific progress," Elizabeth stood again, her fists still clenched at her sides as she turned to face John, "Treating her like a puppet isn't even the worst thing they did to that poor girl. And the cruelest part – the most _horrifying_ part – is she remembers every single second in glaring Technicolor, surround sound detail," Elizabeth started trembling faintly, "How she manages to drag herself out of bed every morning, much less function on a daily basis, is beyond me. I don't think I could do it. I'd have broken a long time ago."

"Hey," John stood, wrapping his arms around Elizabeth to pull her close, "It's not your fault. You didn't do this."

"I know that," Elizabeth dropped her head to rest against John's chest, "I know. But the problem is, someone _did_ do this, John. I've been trying to do what I can to help but I'm not even remotely qualified for this sort of thing. I negotiate _peace_ treaties, for heaven's sake. I don't know anything about spies or assassins or deprogramming or subspace or any of that stuff. I can't even ask anyone for help because the whole thing has to be kept a secret for everyone's safety. Carson is the only other person here who knows most of the story but even he doesn't know the full extent of what's going on and he can barely talk about the parts he does know without working himself into a nearly incoherent rage."

"So you've been trying to deal with all this," John started rubbing gentle circles over the small of Elizabeth's back, "by yourself, this entire time? How's that going for you?"

"Brilliantly," Elizabeth gave a weak laugh, "As you can tell by the outburst."

"Listen," John moved a hand to tilt Elizabeth's chin up then shifted to rub his thumb over her cheekbone, "I may not know much more than you do about this stuff, and I may not have the security clearance to know the whole story, but if nothing else, I can listen when you need to vent. You're not alone in this anymore, Liz. Whatever you need, I'm here, all right?"

"All right," Elizabeth nodded and took a deep steadying breath, "Thank you, John. You've already helped. I think that's what I really needed – to talk instead of trying to hold everything inside."

"Always glad to be of service," John smiled and bent his head to press a soft kiss to Elizabeth's mouth.

* * *

**Here, have a giant, steaming plate of tragic backstory with a side helping of Sparky. Add a dash of angst, top it off with a little fluffy humor, and VOILA!**  
**Also, I am aware that the whole brain-washing/conditioning thing I've described might not be entirely scientifically sound. However, this is a science fiction story, and in the words of a famous poet: I do what I want!**


	46. Choices

The breath rushed out of John's lungs as Ronon smacked him in the ribs with his wooden sword. He bent over, holding up his empty hand towards Ronon as he tried to catch his breath.

"You okay?" Ronon questioned.

"I'm fine," John straightened carefully, "Go easy on the ribs, big guy."

"Sorry," Ronon grinned.

"No, you're not," John moved his hand to his ribs as he inhaled slowly.

"Wanna stop?" Ronon offered.

"No," John shook his head, "Just give me a minute to catch my breath."

"Fine," Ronon started twirling his sword around as the door to the small gym opened.

"Afternoon, Colonel Sheppard," D greeted them calmly, "Specialist Dex."

"Vaughn," John nodded once.

"Where you been?" Ronon scowled at D, "Haven't seen you for three days."

"I've been busy," D came closer, "And you see me every day in the halls."

"Not what I meant, _kuahine_," Ronon insisted.

"The Colonel's still dropping his guard on the left side, I see," D glanced over to John's hand on his ribs, "Did you break his ribs this time?"

"Only bruised him a little," Ronon grinned widely, "He's a slow learner."

"Wait a minute," John protested as he dropped his hand, "What do you mean 'slow learner'?"

"Maybe you're not teaching him the right way," D unzipped her jacket and folded it neatly before laying it on the bench in the window, "Mind if I try?"

"Go ahead," Ronon tossed her the sword, "If you think you can do better."

D twirled the wooden sword in her right hand, testing the weight as Ronon moved to lean against the wall.

"Better get your weapon up, Sheppard," Ronon crossed his arms over his chest, "She won't wait for you like I do."

John looked from Ronon to D and managed to get his sword up just in time to block the blow she aimed at his midsection.

"I assume Elizabeth explained things to you," D angled the sword higher as she swung towards John again, "At least, in part."

"Yeah," John blocked another swing before it hit his leg and grunted when D's empty hand impacted his sensitive ribs, "That why you've been hiding for three days?"

"Turn your body more to the side," D thrust the sword towards John, barely missing his ribs as he followed her directions, "Present a smaller target to your opponent."

"Right," John swung his sword towards D, only to have her block the blow and step closer to thump him in the same spot on his ribs with her knuckles.

"She's been struggling with this," D stepped to the side and thwacked John's left arm with the sword, "Pay attention to where I am, Sheppard. Focus and anticipate my movements. She doesn't understand."

"Doesn't understand what?" John took a quick step back as he blocked another blow.

"She thinks I need to be fixed," D circled John and he blocked a couple easy swings to his left leg, "That the things I experienced somehow broke me irreparably. Tell me, Sheppard," D landed a series of rapid hits along his left side before stepping closer and hooking the sword behind his knee. She yanked hard and sent him stumbling forward onto one knee, "Do I seem broken to you?"

John gritted his teeth as he got to both feet again, turning slowly to face D. John brought the sword in front of him again, determination in his eyes as he took a step forward. D smiled coolly as she lunged towards him, forcing him backwards as he blocked another set of quick, aggressive attacks to his left side.

"'Adapt or perish, now as ever, is nature's inexorable imperative'," D dropped her sword to the ground suddenly, spinning a kick high towards John's head, "H.G. Wells."

D shifted her stance, letting John's sword slide under her arm before she grabbed it and twisted it out of his grip. His momentum pulled his body forward and D kneed him in the stomach as she brought her elbow down on his upper back, sending him sprawling face down on the ground. D used the point of John's sword to nudge his shoulder, guiding him over onto his back before laying the rounded tip against his throat.

"Adapt or die," D looked down at John, "I chose this path, Sheppard. I could have chosen death and found release. Others did."

"Not much of a choice," John wheezed as he looked up at D, "Is it?"

"And yet so many chose death," D's voice was soft and calm, "I chose to bend instead of breaking. Of all the people I have been loyal to, Elizabeth is the first I have chosen of my own free will. The first I have trusted with everything. The first I have willing knelt before. She does not understand that there is always another choice for me. Adapt or die."

"So it's service or death for you?" John asked quietly, his breath evening out, "What about free will?"

"You still don't understand," D crouched down next to John, still holding the sword at his throat, "Physical death is no longer an option I will consider. I made that decision long ago. My choices are adapting to serve someone who treats me with compassion and kindness or killing what's left of my humanity by serving someone who would use me as the weapon I was made to be. I can be a shield for Elizabeth or a sword for someone else. I kneel before her because I _want_ to, not because she is the only option. I choose to believe that she is worthy of my loyalty. I choose to believe that she will not take advantage of me as so many others would. I choose, for the first time, life over survival. I didn't know there was a difference before I came here. If she disregards the choice I have made – forcing me away after showing me the difference between surviving and living– that will be the thing that breaks me, John. And if that happens, if I finally break," D's eyes flashed black briefly, "There is no power in this universe that will stop me from raining down destruction on Earth for all I have suffered there."

"What about her choice?" John questioned, leaning up on his elbows, "What if she doesn't want what you are offering her? You're forcing her to choose between holding your leash or letting you wreak havoc on an entire planet, when you know damn well what she'll pick."

"And now you've grasped the dilemma she is facing," D's expression softened and she lifted the sword away from him, "By giving me a choice, she has taken away her own. She didn't anticipate what my choice would be – didn't understand what my choices were. She still believes that eventually I can be free, when in reality that option was taken from me the first time I bent to another man's will and called him Master. But Elizabeth has shown me that submission does not mean being kept in a cage. I never claimed to be a good person. I am selfish, arrogant, vindictive, violent, cruel, and manipulative. Even now, I choose to call her _Domina_, knowing the distress I am causing her. Many people have tried, John, but no one's ever managed to clip my wings," D offered her hand to him, "I need to be tethered so I do not fly into oblivion. I am using Elizabeth as my anchor to reality."

"Why are you telling me this?" John took D's hand and let her pull him to his feet.

"Because I am making another choice," D flipped the wooden sword as she stepped back, holding it out to him hilt first, "I am choosing to trust you. I am adapting to my circumstances. You'll need to help her understand, to accept, and to adapt."

"I don't know if I can do what you're asking," John accepted the sword.

"You can," D insisted as she stooped to pick up her forgotten sword, "And you will."

"You have awfully high expectations of me," John replied carefully.

"I expect the people around me to live up to their full potential," D corrected easily, "I have little tolerance for incompetence and laziness."

"I never would have guessed," John drawled.

"Do we understand each other, Sheppard?" D asked evenly.

"We do, Vaughn," John nodded in agreement, "But just so we're clear, you can't shove me at Elizabeth every time there's a problem and expect me to magically fix things."

"Why not?" D blinked innocently, "It's worked so far, hasn't it?"

"Pain in the ass," John mumbled under his breath.

"Now that's out of the way," D swung the sword from her hip, impacting the side of John's right thigh and making him yelp in pain, "If you tell anyone what you witnessed, I'll kill you and make it look like an accident."

John rubbed a hand over his thigh as D turned and tossed the sword back to Ronon.

"You should consider Krav Maga, Colonel," D smiled politely at him as she slipped her jacket on, "I think the style would suit you well. If you're interested, _Segen_ Abraham Cohen teaches a class here in the City once a week. He's a strict teacher, but I believe you'd benefit from his instruction," D tapped Ronon on the wrist as she walked past him towards the door, "I'll see you tomorrow morning for our run, _kunane_."

Ronon watched John limp towards him as the door shut behind D, "What was that about?"

"You don't know?" John asked warily.

"I don't ask about her past," Ronon shrugged, "She doesn't ask about mine."

"I don't think I could explain it if I tried," John admitted.

"She's pissed at you about something," Ronon studied John curiously.

"You think?" John snarked.

"What did you do?" Ronon questioned.

"I don't know," John grumbled and rubbed his leg again, "I think that last hit's going to leave a bruise."

"It is," Ronon agreed with a grin, "Underneath your gun holster. Going to be uncomfortable for at least a week. She did it on purpose."

"Damn it," John sulked, "Vaughn doesn't pull any punches, does she?"

"You didn't end up with anything broken or bleeding," Ronon snorted, "She was being nice until the end."

"Well, that's comforting," John scowled, "Good to know she can kick my ass without even breaking a sweat."

"Don't worry, Sheppard," Ronon slapped a hand on John's shoulder, giving him a solemn look, "I can take her. I'll protect you."

"Thanks, Ronon," John rolled his eyes, "I'm going to shower and ice my bruises. I'll meet you and Teyla in the mess for dinner in an hour."

*_AM_*_AM_*_AM_*_AM_*_AM_*_AM_*_AM_*

"Morning, Elizabeth," D held out a cup of coffee as Elizabeth stepped into her office.

"Good morning, D," Elizabeth smiled as she accepted the cup, "Full schedule today?"

"As per usual," D nodded and held out one of her tablets to Elizabeth.

"Before we get started," Elizabeth accepted the tablet, setting both it and her coffee cup behind her on the desk, "I'd like to speak with you about…a personal matter."

"Of course, ma'am," D tucked her tablet under her arm and shifted over to stand by Elizabeth's desk.

"Lip readers?" Elizabeth smiled dryly as she turned to face D, her back now to the control room.

"Yes, ma'am," D smirked, "Gossip-mongers, every single one of them."

"I talked to John last night," Elizabeth began quietly, "We had an interesting conversation."

"Did you?" D's smirk faded and a neutral expression came over her face, "And how did that go?"

"Awkwardly," Elizabeth admitted, "He tried to explain a few things, in his own clumsy way. You could have told me yourself. We spend the majority of the day, every day, working side by side. You could have pulled me aside any time in the last three and a half days to explain how you felt."

"You wouldn't have believed me, ma'am," D studied Elizabeth's face, "You still don't believe me entirely."

"You're right," Elizabeth agreed, "I believe you _think_ you mean what you say, but I'm having a hard time believing that you're in a state of mind to understand what you are saying – what you are giving up."

"With very few exceptions," D spoke carefully, "every word out of my mouth, both truth and lies, is chosen with extreme care. Words strung together to create phrases, and those phrases put together to form meticulously crafted sentences. You need to understand this concept before you understand what I'm about to say next."

"All right," Elizabeth nodded, "Go ahead."

"I am under no illusions about what was done to me or about what I have done," D stated calmly, "I know what I am. Because of my turbulent past– all the pain I have suffered, all the atrocities I have committed – I carry rage and savagery inside me the likes of which you cannot begin to fathom. I try to control it, keep it locked away and hidden in my mind, but sometimes my control slips. When that happens, the results are devastating, both to me and those around me. That is why I need an anchor. Someone to pull me back on course when I start to drift. Whether by the design of the scientists who altered me to fit their version of the perfect living weapon or by some peculiarity in the fabric of my natural personality or by some twisted combination of both – I take pleasure in following orders. I take pleasure in being obedient and I am accustomed to having a master that takes pleasure in controlling a person with my talents. I recognize that you are not that type of person and I am trying to adapt so that we can reach some sort of compromise. But given the choice, _Domina_, I will always choose to serve you, in any way that I can, until the day I die. Not just for your benefit, but for mine as well. I am damaged, Elizabeth, but I am not broken."

Elizabeth was silent for several minutes as she contemplated D's words.

"We're never going to completely agree on this," Elizabeth asked kindly, "Are we?"

"It is possible," D replied sadly, "But unlikely."

Elizabeth straightened, "I'm never going to stop trying to help you get the freedom you deserve."

"I know," D smiled gently.

"Okay," Elizabeth nodded.

"I'm never going to choose freedom over serving you," D held Elizabeth's gaze.

"I know," Elizabeth gave D a soft smile.

"Okay," D inclined her head respectfully, "Shall we get to work, ma'am?"

"What's first up on the schedule for today, Dr. Vaughn?" Elizabeth picked up her coffee and took a small sip.

"A visit to the astrobiology lab," D moved back to the center of the room, "You should be aware before we go, AR-3 brought back a litter of cat-things from their last mission. There's been talk in the City of adopting them."

"Cat-things?" Elizabeth asked warily.

"They look sort of like a cross between a Siamese cat and a jaguar," D explained, "The astrobiology department believes they were domesticated pets on M52-764 before the planet was culled. They've been holding the cat-things in quarantine until they can determine exactly what to do with them."

"You mean until they can try and convince me to keep them," Elizabeth sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Yes, ma'am," D smiled politely, "They're actually kind of sweet. The cat-things, not the astrobiologists."

"D," Elizabeth dropped her hand to give D a flat stare, "No."

"It would be a good morale boost," D's smile widened, "There's only eight of them and you already have volunteers to take care of each of them."

"This is a scientific research facility," Elizabeth reminded her, "and a military base. We can't have cat-things-"

"_Mphaka_," D interjected, "That's the Ancients' name for them. I looked them up in the database."

"You…" Elizabeth stared at D incredulously.

"The database says _mphakas_ are fairly easy to train," D informed her quickly, "Although they look like large cats, they actually have many of the same character traits as domesticated dogs. It wouldn't take much effort to teach them to stay out of certain areas or to follow simple commands."

"I see," Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at D, "Did you write up a cost/benefit analysis for keeping these…_mphakas _on Atlantis?"

"It's on your tablet, ma'am," D grinned as she gestured towards the tablet still on Elizabeth's desk, "We aren't expected in the astrobiology lab for another thirty minutes, if you'd like to read it before we go."

"When I agreed to head this expedition," Elizabeth grabbed the tablet and moved around her desk to drop down into her chair, "This was not the sort of decision I saw myself having to make. How am I supposed to justify keeping pets within the City?"

"There are a few suggestions at the end of my report, ma'am," D supplied helpfully.

"I'll read the report," Elizabeth sank further down in her chair, "But I'm not promising anything."

"Of course not, ma'am," D agreed easily.

"Get out of my office, D," Elizabeth held her coffee cup to her lips to hide her smile.


	47. Work and Play

Rodney came into the conference room sipping his coffee as he skimmed through the latest status reports from the engineering department. He walked around the table to sit in his normal seat, setting his cup down to flip to the next screen on his tablet. He read quietly for several minutes before he felt something tugging relentlessly at his shoelaces. He frowned slightly as he leaned back to look underneath the table. Then he let out a high-pitched squeal and rolled backwards, freezing in place as the chair hit the wall behind him.

A large cat-like creature, about two feet tall, emerged from under the table and stalked slowly towards Rodney. The creature had short, dove gray fur covering its body; all four paws, the tips of both ears and nose, and its tail darkening to an ebony black. A sloping forehead led to piecing ice-blue, almond-shaped eyes and long black whiskers surrounded a flat, triangular black nose. The creature opened its mouth to reveal a complete set of sharp white teeth, with four long incisors, two top and two bottom.

Just as the creature was about to close its jaw around Rodney's ankle, D stepped into the room.

"Nemesis, _nein_," D ordered easily, "_Sitz_." [German: no.] [German: Sit.]

The creature closed its mouth and sat down on its back haunches in front of Rodney as D walked past to set the stack of tablets she carried in the middle of the u-shaped table. She walked back to the creature and bent down to set one hand on top of the creature's head, laying her other hand on one of Rodney's knees.

"Rodney McKay. _Freund_," D spoke firmly, "Rodney is a friend. We don't chew on friends." [German: friend.]

D straightened, moving both hands away. The creature looked up at her, giving her a small whine before it swiped a paw towards Rodney's shoelaces.

"No, Nem," D rolled her eyes, "You can't play with his shoelaces. He's using them right now. Maybe if you ask him nicely later."

The creature let out an unhappy huff.

"Why don't you introduce yourself?" D asked calmly.

The creature scooted closer and ducked its head to bump Rodney's knee, letting out a short chirrup before it looked up at Rodney expectantly.

"She's saying hello," an amused smile spread over D's face as she studied Rodney's terrified expression, "Her name is Nemesis."

"It has a name?" Rodney's eyes managed to widen even further, not looking away from the creature at his feet, "What the hell is it?"

"Yes, _she_ has a name," D explained patiently, "She's one of the _mphakas_ that AR-3 brought back from M52-764. Dr. Weir decided in favor of keeping them here in the City. All eight of them have been adopted by various expedition members. Nemesis here is the eldest of the litter, from what the astrobiologists can tell. There was a memo sent out five weeks ago about this, Rodney. Didn't you read it?"

"No? I don't think…" Rodney shifted nervously as Nemesis head-butted his knee again, "Maybe? I thought they were supposed to stay in a designated area or something."

"Just until they were house-broken and trained," D looked between Rodney and Nemesis, "She's waiting for you to scratch behind her ears or something, to say hello back."

"I don't think I want to say hello," Rodney shook his head vehemently, "That thing was trying to eat me."

"I doubt that," D disagreed, "She was probably trying to get you to hold your leg still so she could get at your shoelaces. She's still learning what is and isn't acceptable behavior."

"You're _training_ it?" Rodney glanced at D briefly, "You adopted one of them?"

"They've all completed basic obedience training in the last five weeks," D informed him, "I adopted Nemesis and I'm training her, as well as helping to train the three others who were adopted by the military. We're hoping to be able to train these four for security purposes and the other four, adopted by the various civilian departments, for search and rescue. You'll see all eight of them around the City starting today. We're working on social interaction and identifying individual members of the expedition. I introduced you to her by name and told her your status so in the future she'll be able to locate you if necessary and behave accordingly in your presence."

"She can't really understand you," Rodney paused to look between Nemesis and D several times, "Can she?"

"We've discovered that _mphakas_ are much more intelligent than we originally thought," D smiled softly and scratched the top of Nemesis' head, "Nemesis understands almost all of what I say and I've found that she's easier to train than most humans."

Nemesis let out a pleased chirrup and leaned over to rub her head on D's thigh.

"See?" D grinned as Nemesis ducked down to butt Rodney's knee again, an impatient whine coming out when she looked up at him again, "She'll keep saying hello until you scratch her."

Rodney reached one hand out cautiously, leaning forward to scratch gently behind one of Nemesis' ears.

"She's like a giant house cat," Rodney smiled hesitantly when Nemesis began to purr quietly, "Sort of. If you could train a house cat, I guess, which doesn't really happen because most of them ignore you. What sort of name is Nemesis?"

"It's from the Greek _némein_," D explained easily, "meaning 'to give what is due'. Nemesis was the Greek goddess of revenge, usually depicted with wings, and she was meant to direct human affairs in a way that maintained equilibrium."

"You put way too much thought into that, Red," Rodney brought his other hand up to scratch behind the other ear, resulting in even louder purring, "You're just a big baby. Not dangerous at all, are you, Nemesis?"

"Actually," D smirked, "she's extremely dangerous. The pressure exerted by her jaw can snap an adult human's neck," Rodney's eyes widened again and he withdrew his hands as D continued, "and she's not even fully grown yet. _Mphakas _grow to the size of a large jaguar, approximately four to six feet from nose to tail, standing at an average of three feet tall, and weighing anywhere from a hundred fifty to two hundred pounds. They're deadly predators, Rodney, and only choose to be pets because they enjoy human companionship."

"Right," Rodney watched Nemesis warily as she padded towards the doors.

"Afternoon, Colonel Sheppard, Specialist Dex, Ms. Emmagan," Nemesis bumped each of their legs as D greeted them.

"Hello, D," Teyla gave Nemesis a quick scratch under her chin, "Hello, Nemesis."

"She supposed to be in here?" John bent down to scratch behind Nemesis' ear before he and Teyla went to take their seats, "What's she doing today?"

Ronon ignored the giant cat, leaving her sitting in the middle of the room as he went around to sit next to Rodney.

"Socializing and identifying," D nodded, a smirk on her face as she went to sit in her own chair, "And scaring the shit out of Rodney by trying to eat his shoelaces."

"She did not," Rodney protested as he scooted his chair back to the table, "Scare me, I mean. She did try to play with my shoelaces."

"Rodney," D's smile widened, "I heard your squeak from the control room."

"He squeaked?" John grinned at Rodney, "And I missed it?"

"I did not _squeak_," Rodney flushed pink, "I let out a very manly yelp of surprise when confronted by a large unknown creature with sharp teeth that was attempting to bite my leg."

"It was definitely a squeak," D turned her smile to John, "I didn't even know Rodney's voice could reach that high of a pitch. I'm thinking I might have to replicate the situation and see if he can do it again, just to make sure I heard right."

Nemesis jumped up onto the table in front of Ronon, staring intently at him as she whined impatiently.

"What?" Ronon stared back.

"You didn't say hello," Rodney informed him seriously, "She won't leave you alone until you say hello."

"Nope," Ronon didn't look away from Nemesis.

She sat down on her haunches, growling low in her throat as she and Ronon kept staring at each other.

"You don't scare me," Ronon insisted.

Nemesis raised one paw, extending her claws and flexing her foreleg in Ronon's direction.

"Still not scared," Ronon crossed his arms over his chest.

Nemesis retracted the claws and put the paw down, then opened her mouth to bare her impressive teeth, still growling lowly at Ronon.

"That's the best you got?" Ronon questioned.

Nemesis closed her mouth with an annoyed huff. Then she lifted the paw again, extending her claws as she bared her teeth and let out a loud roar.

"That's better," Ronon grinned and held his arms out wide, "Come on."

Nemesis hopped nimbly from the table into Ronon's lap, rubbing her chin on his shoulder as he massaged his fingers into her neck and shoulders.

"Isn't she too big to be in your lap?" Rodney asked warily as Nemesis started purring contently, "Aren't you worried she's going to claw through your leg or something?"

"No," Ronon reached into his pants pocket to pull out a small piece of jerky, "If she claws me she doesn't get treats."

"Ronon," D sighed as Nemesis snapped the jerky from Ronon's fingers and started munching on it, "If you keep giving her treats, you're going to make her fat."

"Runs too much to be fat," Ronon blocked Nemesis from licking his face, "No kisses, jerky breath."

"I have seen all the _mphakas_ running in the catwalks," Teyla smiled in agreement, "Ronon could feed her an entire herd of animals and I doubt it would make an impact."

"Lorne told me Ajax and Jadzia did PT with Charlie Company this morning," John snorted, "They did twice the running they normally do because they were having so much fun with the cats and didn't want to stop. Who knew giant cats were a motivational tool?"

"Jadzia?" Rodney wondered.

"Stackhouse has a thing for Deep Space Nine," D explained, "The name means 'princess' in Polish."

"And Ajax?" Rodney stared at D oddly, "Is that Lorne's?"

"No, Evan named his Cor," D smiled softly, "It's Latin for 'heart'. Ajax is Greek for 'strong warrior'. Ajax was adopted by Lt. Edison. According to the astrobiologists, Ajax and Jadzia are practically twins. It's hard to tell them apart sometimes."

"Is there a list or something somewhere?" Rodney snarked, "Will there be a quiz later about what each of the names mean? I'm never going to be able to keep all this straight. At least no one from my department adopted any of them."

"Actually," D bit back a smile, "Miko adopted the youngest. Her name is Mayu. It means 'true gentleness'. I'm pretty sure it was Mayu that convinced Elizabeth to keep the _mhpakas_ in the City. Crawled right into her lap and started purring when we went to see them that first day."

"There's going to be animal hair in all my experiments," Rodney grumbled, "No one bothered to consult me about this. There should have been a vote or something."

"You were on medical leave," D reminded him, "Even if you weren't, Atlantis isn't a democracy. They're staying. If you don't want them in your lab, tell them to get out. As I said, they're highly intelligent creatures."

"I see that," Rodney scoffed as Ronon blocked another sloppy lick from Nemesis, "Totally smart and very dangerous. I'm trembling."

"I changed my mind, Nem," D smiled politely at Rodney, "You can play with Rodney's shoelaces now."

Nemesis stopped trying to lick Ronon's face with a happy chirrup and hopped down to start stalking Rodney's shoes. She crouched down, her hind quarters wiggling in the air as Rodney started scooting his chair back towards the wall again.

"I take it back," Rodney said quickly, "Sarcasm retracted. Don't eat me. Don't eat my shoes. I need my shoes. Nice kitty. Good kitty."

Elizabeth walked in as Nemesis was about to pounce on the trailing edge of Rodney's laces. Elizabeth looked up from her PDA and Nemesis froze in place, looking from the shoelaces in front of her to Elizabeth. D stood as Elizabeth sighed heavily and walked around the table, stepping over the top of a now-still Nemesis.

"D," Elizabeth ordered lightly as she sat, "The rules."

"Sorry, Nem," D started passing down the tablets as she sat, "Elizabeth says no more teasing Rodney, no matter how much fun it is or how mean he was being."

Nemesis whined forlornly before she strutted over to bump her head against Elizabeth's knee.

"Time to work now, Nemesis," Elizabeth ran her hand over the top of Nemesis' head and scratched under her chin, "Find something quiet to do that doesn't involve my lap. Rodney, don't be mean to Nemesis."

"What?" Rodney blustered, "I wasn't being mean to the cat. She tried to bite my leg."

"Is that what that noise was earlier?" Elizabeth wondered.

"Rodney squeaked," John smirked.

"I did not squeak," Rodney scowled.

"Did too," John argued.

"Did not," Rodney insisted.

"Perhaps we should begin the briefing," Teyla interjected calmly, "Before we become too distracted."

"Good idea, Teyla," Elizabeth agreed, "Let's talk about M18…M18..." Elizabeth trailed off and looked down to where Nemesis was snuffling against the pocket of her pants, "I said something quiet that _didn't_ involve my lap."

"Ma'am," D cleared her throat, "You confiscated her ball earlier. It's still in your pocket and she'd like it back."

Elizabeth gave D a flat stare.

"Please?" D blinked innocently, "And thank you. Ma'am."

Fine," Elizabeth leaned back to pull a small red ball from her pocket and stared down at Nemesis as she held the ball out to D, "But there will be no more jumping off the balcony, Nemesis. Sgt. Johnson almost stunned you this morning because you scared him."

"Yes, ma'am," D accepted the ball from Elizabeth, "And she'll stay away from the gate. Won't you, Nem?"

Nemesis gave a quick huff of agreement.

"Ready?" D asked as she held the ball up, "_Hol_." [German: Fetch.]

D lobbed the ball through the open conference door and Nemesis leapt over the table by Elizabeth before the ball even cleared the balcony.

"All right," Elizabeth spoke over the rapid footsteps and the laughter that drifted up from the gate room, "Let's talk about M18-433, shall we?"

For the remainder of the meeting, D threw the ball and Nemesis would retrieve it, placing it carefully on the table in front of D for her to throw again. Elizabeth's concentration never faltered as she went over the information that had been translated from the database about the planet for their upcoming mission. John, Teyla, and Ronon largely ignored the game of fetch going on in their midst, asking Elizabeth questions to clarify their upcoming mission.

Rodney gave D and Nemesis an occasional eye roll and wondered silently to himself when this had gone from being a serious scientific expedition to being a place where a giant cat could play fetch in the entire gate room and no one batted an eye. He suspected it had something to do with a certain red-haired spy that didn't take no for an answer and was in the middle of debating the merits of requisitioning Velcro shoes when Elizabeth finally dismissed them.

* * *

**I had to keep the cat-things. I couldn't help myself. I read somewhere that large cat trainers (like lions and tigers) used German as a common training language to make the animals easier to trade, hence the German commands in the story.**

**Special thanks to reader Aniles for fixing my German!**


	48. Rumor and Opinion

"Thank you, Stiles," Elizabeth smiled tightly as the uniformed man left her office. She turned to look at D, whose face was carefully blank as she walked to the center of the room.

"Did you know about this?" Elizabeth asked warily.

"About what, ma'am?" D replied evenly.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Elizabeth's eyes narrowed.

D blinked innocently, "I'm not sure that I do, ma'am."

"You could have at least warned me," Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, "So I had time to prepare a more coherent response."

"I thought your response was fine, ma'am," D smiled politely.

"Ma'am me one more time, D," Elizabeth scowled, "and I'll make sure you're available to play light switch for the next year."

"Sorry, Elizabeth," D grinned widely.

"Did you at least win the pool?" Elizabeth questioned.

"All three of them," D agreed happily, "I'll have a steady supply of chocolate and coffee for the foreseeable future."

"Three?" Elizabeth wondered curiously.

"The date, the location," D explained easily, "and which of them would be directing their activities when they were discovered."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped, "People were betting on which of them would be…"

"This is a small community, Elizabeth," D reminded her, "And there's really not much to do for entertainment. With everything that happens here on a daily basis, people need an outlet for stress relief."

"Are you referring to the supply closet incident," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "or the betting on people's sex lives?"

"Both," D shrugged, "I've spoken to Chuck and he's agreed the sexual activities of all the senior staff are off-limits, though I'm afraid the rest of your personal lives are still wagered on. It doesn't stop the rumors, but I have my spy network monitoring those and reporting back to me daily."

"Your spy network?" Elizabeth asked cautiously.

"I could give you their names if you wanted, Elizabeth," D said seriously, "But I'd rather preserve the anonymity of my sources."

"I don't need to know," Elizabeth sighed, "I assume you'd inform me if there were any serious rumors that need addressing."

"I usually take care of the more worrisome rumors myself," D informed her, "It's not that difficult to adjust the direction in which the rumors are heading. A few quick words to certain people in the right location and any rumors that are developing contrary to what I want are redirected."

"Wait a minute," Elizabeth sat forward again, "Contrary to what you want?"

"I get bored sometimes too," D smirked, "I find it extremely entertaining to observe the interactions and reactions of the people here in the City. A month ago, I convinced the majority of Bravo Company that Tower 14 on the east pier was haunted. Half of them still won't go near that building."

"I think the part that disturbs me the most," Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose, "is that you are being completely serious right now."

"At one point, Elizabeth," D grinned, "you did want me to find an activity to relax and have fun that didn't involve sparring with Ronon."

"Spreading rumors wasn't exactly what I had in mind, D," Elizabeth dropped her hand and gave the other woman a flat stare.

"I also stop by Teyla's quarters once or twice a month for movie night," D looked toward the control room, "AR-1 is due for their check-in any moment, ma'am."

"All right," Elizabeth stood and came around the desk to stop by D, "Try not to cause too much chaos with your rumor-spreading, please."

"Of course, ma'am," D inclined her head.

"So how did you figure out what would happen between Schultz and Kappel?" Elizabeth started towards the control room.

"I estimated their feud would finally come to a head yesterday evening or early this morning because of the intense nature of their current project," D followed Elizabeth's slow pace onto the walkway, "There was an incident over whose name would go first on the report detailing their latest shared experiment results at 2635 yesterday evening. The supply closet they were found in is the closest to their lab. I figured once they decided to resolve their sexual tension, they wouldn't be able to contain themselves until they got to their living quarters."

"And the…other thing?" Elizabeth whispered as she stopped at the entrance to the control room.

"Everyone thought Adam would be the one to initiate," D answered quietly, "because of his feisty nature, which from the security footage was accurate. What they neglected to take into account was the way Dominic stares at Adam's mouth when they argue."

"His mouth?" Elizabeth asked cautiously.

"Adam has a very pretty mouth, Elizabeth," D smirked, "I correctly assumed that Dominic would be unable to resist the temptation to…find an alternate use for it. And if the enthusiasm Adam displays his daily activities is any indication, Dominic is an incredibly lucky man. Those two could make a fortune together, if Atlantis ever decided to get into the porn industry. Both of them are attractive men in their primes and-"

"Oh god, stop talking," Elizabeth flushed a pale pink.

"Yes, ma'am," D pressed her lips together in a firm line, "You did ask though."

"I hope you realize," Elizabeth's cheeks remained pink, "that you have just ensured I'll never be able to get through a meeting with either of them without imagining them naked together."

"You're welcome, ma'am," a wicked grin spread across D's face, "It's a fantastic image, isn't it?"

Elizabeth was saved from replying by the announcement of an incoming wormhole and the gate springing to life.

*_AM_*_AM_*_AM_*_AM_*_AM_*_AM_*_AM_*

Elizabeth and D stood on the small balcony in the control room, Nemesis sitting quietly between them, all of them watching as Carson checked over his supplies in the middle of the gate room.

"Are you sure it's wise to send Dr. Beckett unaccompanied, ma'am?" D asked evenly.

"Teyla assured me that everything was under control," Elizabeth glanced at D, then resumed watching Carson, "and that John was still considered a guest of the Lord Protector."

"They always say things are 'under control'," D sighed and scratched Nemesis' head absently, "Then an hour later we're sending Marines through the gate to retrieve them again. AR-1's definition of 'under control' leaves something to be desired."

"Carson will be fine," Elizabeth assured her, "And helping the Lord Protector will be a first step in establishing good relations. If Rodney's right and this is some sort of sister-City to Atlantis, well, I don't have to tell you what the benefits could be."

"I'm aware, ma'am," D agreed carefully.

"What are you thinking, D?" Elizabeth wondered curiously.

"I'm…" D paused and shifted closer to Elizabeth before she continued quietly, "…concerned about the preliminary report we received."

"You think Sheppard's team might be in danger?" Elizabeth inquired as she leaned closer.

"Well, yes and no," a thoughtful look came over D's face, "From what Teyla said, the people on M18-433 are a feudal society and have been that way for many years. The 'nobles', as they call themselves, have used their limited understanding of Ancient technology to set themselves up in a position of power over the rest of the people in the villages. People like that in positions of power tend to be extremely reluctant to give it up. I believe with the individual and combined personalities of Sheppard's team, the situation could turn volatile quickly."

"How so?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Ronon and Teyla are staying in the village," D explained, "While Rodney goes off with his local guide and Sheppard deals with the politics in the tower. Ronon prizes his Satedan sense of honor highly and Teyla's compassion makes it difficult for her to watch injustice. There has already been one incident between the constables and the team. There are certain things that neither Ronon nor Teyla will tolerate. I believe that it's only a matter of time before there is another more serious confrontation. In the worst case scenario, the Lord Protector decides to level the village with drones while Ronon and Teyla are still in it. Rodney tends to get hyperopic when he is dealing with Ancient technology. He'll only be able to see the potential benefits of having another ZPM and restocking our drones. He'll do nearly anything to get his hands on the technology if his initial assessment is correct, including offering the nobles things that we are unwilling to trade and simply taking the technology without asking. If that happens, I would imagine the Lord Protector would attempt to punish him severely and the rest of the team would cause a great deal of damage to prevent it. As for Sheppard…"

"You think if something happens to the Lord Protector they'll take him prisoner?" Elizabeth asked cautiously.

"Yes, but I'm more worried about what Sheppard will be doing before then," D spoke dryly, "He's alone in the tower dealing with_ politics_, Elizabeth."

"Right," Elizabeth smothered a smile and Nemesis chirruped in agreement, "Not his strong suit."

"It's not that he doesn't grasp the complexities of a situation like this," D continued easily, "He just doesn't have the patience to deal with them for extended amounts of time. That's why Teyla does almost all the negotiating for his team. There are so many different social intricacies and subtle behind the scenes maneuvering in a situation like this that Sheppard doesn't want to deal with. This requires a delicate touch. Sheppard's more likely to act rashly without fully considering the consequences in pursuit of what he believes to be 'doing the right thing'."

"So your concern with my sending Carson unaccompanied," Elizabeth studied D's face, "was less about his safety and more about preventing potential problems?"

"Yes, ma'am," D hesitated, "Not that I'm completely unconcerned for Dr. Beckett."

"I'm just trying to better understand the way you think," Elizabeth brushed a hand down D's arm, "I'm not making any sort of judgment."

"Yes, ma'am," D ducked her head.

"So what would you do," Elizabeth wondered, "If it were up to you?"

"There are two relatively good options," D looked back down to Carson, "First, send a security detail with Carson, a team like Lorne's or Stackhouse's. A small show of force to ensure that all parties are on their best behavior. Both teams are well-versed in trade negotiations and consist of people who are more even-tempered than Sheppard's team, thus less likely to react badly if things start to go sideways. If and when something does go wrong, however, both teams are fully capable of defending not only themselves, but the villagers as well. Having an additional team already on the planet will make things quicker when Sheppard's team inevitably needs rescuing. I'd say send Nemesis and Cor as well, but I'm not sure they're ready to be in that type of situation yet."

Nemesis huffed irritably and scooted closer to Elizabeth.

"And the second?" Elizabeth smiled as she reached down to scratch under the giant cat's chin.

"Send an undercover operative with Carson," D scowled at Nemesis, "Someone posing as a nurse."

"You're really the only person with the training to be an undercover operative here in the City," Elizabeth pointed out, "That wasn't exactly a priority when we were choosing expedition members."

"That's something you should consider rethinking," D looked up at Elizabeth, "Especially now that we've shifted the priorities of the City to making and maintaining allies."

"What would you do exactly," Elizabeth asked curiously, "if I sent you to the planet with Carson?"

"I'd manipulate the situation to our advantage," D gave Elizabeth a crooked smile, "It'd have to be a long term op if you wanted to accomplish anything without violence. It would take me about half a day to learn the social customs of the nobles, another half a day to learn all the players and establish a suitable cover. Then, depending on the variables, probably another two days, maybe three, to create a power base. After that, I could start effecting changes in the way things are run. Atlantis could have the drones within two months, the ZPM within three. Dismantling the feudal system would six months, minimum, probably closer to a full year to get rid of it completely."

"Two different options," Elizabeth considered, "Calculated to accomplish two different goals."

"Yes, ma'am," D agreed easily, "The first option is short term and increases the chances of the safe return of all expedition members. The second option is long term and increases the chances of Atlantis obtaining drones and possibly a ZPM. It's all a matter of priorities."

Chuck cleared his throat to get Elizabeth's attention and both women turned to face the consoles.

"Dr. Beckett is ready to go, ma'am," Chuck informed them.

"Dial the gate, please," Elizabeth nodded.

"Yes, ma'am," Chuck nodded once and began pressing the symbols in front of him.

"Good luck, Carson," Elizabeth raised her voice to be heard as she looked down, "And be careful."

"Thank you, Elizabeth," Carson smiled up at her and picked up his large case as the gate sprang to life, "I will be."

After Carson stepped through the puddle and the gate shut of behind him, Elizabeth started towards her office, D and Nemesis following behind her.

"Why didn't you bring up these other options until after I'd already made my decision?" Elizabeth inquired once they were in her office.

"It's not my place to tell you what to do, Elizabeth," D shrugged, "I assume that if you wanted my opinion on something, you would ask me for it."

"D," Elizabeth frowned slightly, "You should know by now that I value your insight and your opinions. I'd rather you tell me directly if you think you have a better way of doing things. I'll always do my best to listen to your suggestions, even if I don't follow them afterwards."

"I know you'll listen, ma'am," D inclined her head, "But some of my opinions could be seen as me trying to undermining your authority if I brought them up in front of others. Not to mention, my moral compass is skewed more towards practicality and survival rather than compassion and honesty. I left out the option where we simply attach locator beacons to the drones, once they're located, and have the _Daedalus_ beam them up when it arrives next week. That option carries the least amount of risk for all expedition members, has the highest chance of us obtaining the drones, and takes the least amount of time."

"I'd rather not steal these peoples only way of protecting themselves against the Wraith," Elizabeth said carefully, "I don't want to sacrifice their lives to protect our own."

"That's why I didn't include that option as a viable one and that's another reason I don't offer my opinion without being asked when we're in public," D checked her watch, "More people than I'm comfortable with already know that I'm more than just an analyst assigned as your assistant by General O'Neill. I'd rather not give anyone else reason to think any differently. Suggesting undercover operations and straight up theft might make them think otherwise. We have ten minutes before your meeting with the botany department, ma'am. Would you like me to get you a cup of coffee?"

"That would be lovely, thank you," Elizabeth nodded, "And D?"

"Yes, ma'am?" D replied easily.

"I want to hear your opinions from now on," Elizabeth declared calmly, "_Before_ I make my decision, not after the fact. Even if that means you have to pull me aside to tell me. You probably could have convinced me to send Stackhouse's team with Carson if you'd brought it up earlier. Protecting Atlantis and the people here is more important than keeping up appearances or sparing anyone's feelings, even my own."

"You mean that," D tilted her head to the side.

"I do," Elizabeth agreed.

"I'll keep that in mind, ma'am," D inclined her head as she left.


	49. Volunteer

"You made it just in time, John," Elizabeth looked away from the monitor as John walked into the control room.

"I got caught up with the team transferring the drones," John moved to stand next to Elizabeth, "What are they working on today?"

Elizabeth reached up to tap her radio, "Dr. Vaughn?"

John watched as one of the figures on the security monitor reached up to tap her earpiece.

"_Yes, ma'am_?" D replied easily.

"Colonel Sheppard would like to know what the kits are doing this afternoon," Elizabeth informed her.

"_The twins are doing their final explosives materials test_," D tied the last strap in place around Ronon's arm, "_The explosives lab hid three samples of every type of explosive we've encountered so far in Pegasus in varying locations on this pier, thirty-three separate bombs in total. Edison and Stackhouse will give Ajax and Jadzia the command then stay behind while an EOD team follows each of the kits to render the bombs safe. It should take the twins an hour or less to locate all the explosives and return to home base where Greg and Nate are waiting._"

John tapped his radio, "When you say 'render safe', you do mean as part of the simulation, right? There aren't any actual bombs on the west pier?"

D looked up into the security camera and smirked before she moved over to another man and started checking the straps around his arm.

"_Let me rephrase that_," D tightened one of the straps, "_Lt. Boom-Boom was responsible for the creation and hiding of all bombs. I have damage control and medical teams on stand-by, just in case_."

"_They're only little bombs_, _I promise,_" Cadman's voice joined the conversation, "_The actual explosive material isn't tied into the bomb design, only sitting next to the bombs so the kits can locate them. The bombs themselves are basically really complicated timers attached to air cannons. The worst that can happen if one of them goes off is someone gets covered in hot pink glitter. I'm supervising from the secondary command center here. Frankly, sir, if the EOD teams can't defuse something as simple as a glitter bomb, we've got some serious issues._"

"Hot pink glitter bombs?" John eyed Elizabeth warily.

"Would you believe there was a mix up in the requisition forms?" Elizabeth smiled wryly.

"No," John snorted and looked back to the monitor, "What about the guys that you've got dressed like football players?"

"_Football players don't have padding on their arms, Sheppard_," D inspected the last man's padding.

"I am aware, Vaughn," John drawled, "It was a joke."

"_Not a very funny one,_" D stepped back and put her hands on her hips, "_These lovely gentleman have volunteered to participate in Nemesis' and Cor's non-lethal takedown of enemy combatants training_."

There was some low grumbling from Ronon over D's radio.

"_You did volunteer, kunane,_" D smiled sharply, "_I remember distinctly, because it was right after you told me you started a revolution _without_ permission._"

Ronon made a rude hand gesture that John was almost certain the Marines taught him.

"Wait a minute," John looked to Elizabeth again, "_Without_ permission? So would it have been okay for him to start a revolution if he'd asked first?"

"Well," Elizabeth bit back a smile, "It's too late to find out now, isn't it?"

"_I have more padding down here, Colonel_," D looked up at the camera again, "_If you'd like to join Ronon. We can never have too many volunteers._"

"I didn't start any revolutions," John protested, "I was in the tower minding my own business while they were starting revolutions in the village. I behaved like a perfect gentleman the entire time."

"_Is that why Mara offered to make you King_?" D arched an eyebrow, "_Because you were such a gentleman_?"

"I turned her down," John crossed his arms over his chest, "Both her offers. And that wasn't in any of the reports. Which one of your spies told you that?"

"You just did," Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

John heard several different unrestrained laughs, both male and female, over the radio and saw D's eyes twinkling in amusement as she stared at the camera.

"_That counts as public admission, Elizabeth_," D grinned widely, "_You owe me the last bottle of that blue wine from Frente._"

"Wait, what?" John looked between the screen and Elizabeth.

"We had a wager," Elizabeth said dryly, "on whether D could get you to admit that Mara offered to make you King in a public setting. You just cost me a very lovely vintage of _huona_, John."

"You bet on me?" John asked incredulously.

"For all the good it did me," Elizabeth huffed.

"Remember, Vaughn," John turned back to the screen, "You're not the only one who knows how to get even."

"_I'm shaking in my boots, your Majesty_," D waved a hand at the large group of padded men in front of her, "_Go find places to hide, gentleman. Evan, you ready_?"

"_We're ready_," Lorne's amused voice came over the radio, "_Doing both tests at the same time_?"

"_Yup,_" D nodded as the men disappeared from the screen, "_The kits have to learn to follow only the specific orders they're given and how to work with distractions. Everyone else ready_?"

A chorus of 'yes, ma'ams' came over the radio as Lorne walked onto the screen with two large cats trailing behind him. John recognized the mostly gray one as Nemesis and assumed the slightly smaller, jet black one was Cor. D set her hand on top of Nemesis' head, looking over to Lorne as he did the same with Cor.

"_Dr. Weir,_" D prompted.

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder to Chuck, "Start the timer, Sergeant."

"Three, two, one," Chuck spoke evenly into the radio, "Begin."

"_Such_," two male voices spoken in unison. [German: Search.]

"Ajax and Jadzia are on their way," Chuck announced into the radio.

"_Nemesis_," D smiled down at the cat sitting next to her, "_Jagen. Ruhig._" [German: Hunt. Quiet.]

Nemesis took off running silently, D following quickly behind her.

"_We can't let Nem have all the fun, can we_?" Lorne grinned down at the large black cat next to him, "_Cor, jagen. Ruhig_."

Lorne ran after Cor as another voice announced the first bomb was located and being disarmed.

Elizabeth smiled as she reached up to tap her radio off, stepping closer to John as he did the same.

"You're not really upset, are you?" Elizabeth whispered quietly.

"Nope," John shook his head with a grin, "But if you'd told me what was going on, I could've helped you win."

"I wish I'd have thought of that earlier," Elizabeth laughed softly, "If I'd won the bet, I'd be getting a massage tonight. I could use one."

"I think I might be able to arrange that for you," John glanced over to Elizabeth as the image on the monitor shifted.

"I don't know," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at John, "D promised to use that wonderful self-warming oil the Athosians make on the mainland."

John turned back to the monitor, watching Cor sneak behind a uniformed man, tripping him as Nemesis latched onto the padding around his arm, the two of them pinning him to the ground in less than a second.

"I'm sure that can be arranged too," John's voice lowered.

"You think it could be arranged around," Elizabeth smiled as she studied monitor, "let's say, 2200 tonight, in my quarters?"

"Definitely," John nodded.

*_AM_*_AM_*_AM_*_AM_*_AM_*_AM_*_AM_*

"Ma'am?" D stepped into Elizabeth's office from the control room.

"Yes?" Elizabeth looked up from the laptop she was reading.

"Flight confirms _Daedalus_ arrived in orbit ten minutes ago," D reported, "They're beaming down our supplies to the appropriate departments now. They'll be finished shortly and leaving directly afterwards to conduct some minor repairs on the hyperdrive."

"Any new personnel this time?" Elizabeth wondered.

"A couple squads of Marines," D nodded, "Major Leonard volunteered to do their orientation and I've already assigned them living quarters."

"Did the Major _actually_ volunteer," Elizabeth asked wryly, "or did you volunteer him the same way you did Ronon yesterday?"

"I suppose he didn't technically volunteer," D shrugged, "But Colonel Sheppard and his team only returned from their survey of the Kohal system five minutes ago. Major Lorne's team is on stand-by this shift, so orientation of new military personnel falls to Major Leonard."

"All right," Elizabeth nodded and frowned as she continued, "AR-1 is back already? They weren't scheduled to return for another two hours. Did something happen?"

"It seems they found what appear to be a couple of life-pods orbiting one of the planets," D explained easily, "They brought the first one back and it's being transferred lab three now. Would you like to send a team to retrieve the second pod, ma'am?"

"Let's have Lorne's team take a jumper," Elizabeth decided, "And ask Ronon and Teyla if they'll accompany them, make it easier for Lorne's team to locate the second pod."

"Yes, ma'am," D tapped her radio and relayed the order before tapping the radio off again, "They'll be leaving in five minutes, ma'am."

"Good," Elizabeth sat back in her chair, "Were there any life signs in the pods?"

"Dr. McKay's initial report stated there were," D agreed, "It seems the pods are only big enough to house a single human and both pods were giving off faint life-signs readings. Dr. Beckett is already on his way to lab three to assist Dr. McKay. They're determining the viability of opening the first pod now and Dr. Beckett will contact you when they've reached a decision. It shouldn't take that long."

"Sounds good," Elizabeth gestured towards her laptop, "What do you know about this latest proposal from the anthropology department?"

"Dr. Lindsay and M1K-177?" D inquired as she moved around the desk to look over Elizabeth's shoulder at the laptop.

"Yeah," Elizabeth scrolled back to the top of the screen, "She's asking for permission to have a small science team stationed there permanently."

"To teach them more economical methods of farming and fishing," D reached over to skim through the text, "The idea is a sound one, but the way she wants to execute it is inefficient."

"That's what I thought too," Elizabeth pursed her lips in thought, "The people there seem friendly enough to have as allies, but I'd rather not commit the resources to have a team stationed there permanently. Can you think of any alternatives?"

"We could add 177 to the list of planets we visit regularly," D suggested, "Say, once or twice a week until the methods are established. Probably at least five months from what I've read of the reports, then tapering off to once a month after that. We could also offer assistance in the form of manual labor during their primary planting and harvesting seasons. I'd recommend removing Dr. Lindsay from Captain Matthews' team and having her be the primary liaison, since she's the one the villagers have dealt with up until now. That way the team escorting her can be adjusted according the duty schedule. The other members of Matthews' team have a wide-range of skill sets and it shouldn't be that hard to find another scientist to round out the team."

"Is there room on the schedule to send a team with Dr. Lindsay once a week?" Elizabeth questioned.

"With some minor adjusting, yes," D stepped back around the desk, "It shouldn't be a problem. In fact, the escort detail to 177 could be used for those teams who have a member on light duty for whatever reason, rather than standing the team down completely."

"Let's go with that plan then. I'll let Dr. Lindsay know," Elizabeth looked back to her laptop, "Will you consult with Major Lorne about the gate schedule?"

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head, "I'll add a short meeting into his schedule first thing in the morning."

"Thank you, D," Elizabeth spoke dismissively, "I'll meet you in lab three whenever Carson calls."

When Elizabeth realized that D stayed in the middle of the room, shifting quietly on her feet, she looked up from her laptop and narrowed her eyes.

"What's the matter?" Elizabeth asked cautiously.

"Colonel Caldwell is back in command of the _Daedalus_, ma'am," D stated evenly.

"I see," Elizabeth pushed back from her desk and stood, coming around the front to lean against it, "Is that why there's a two hour hole in my schedule this evening?"

"Yes, ma'am," D ducked her head, "I thought it would be prudent."

"How much damage control are we going to have to do?" Elizabeth asked calmly.

"I'm not sure, ma'am," D admitted, "General O'Neill forwarded me copies of Caldwell's debrief, both the redacted and uncensored versions, and he made no mention of me beyond the fact that I was the one to stop him."

"So we have no way of knowing how much he knows," Elizabeth studied D carefully, "or how he's going to react."

"He knows enough to be a threat, ma'am," D replied steadily, "He made a vague reference to the unique circumstances of my creation and the fact that I follow the orders of my Master. The fact that he knows my name at all makes him dangerous."

"The three of us will have to sit down," Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest, "and discuss where we go from here."

"I assumed that's the route you'd want to take, ma'am," D looked up at Elizabeth, "Hence the two free hours tonight."

"The route I'd want to take?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"As the Goa'uld said, ma'am," D replied smoothly, "No one has ever seen my true face and lived to tell about it. In the past, I would already have eliminated the threat Caldwell poses by knowing what little information he does. It's easier to be invisible if no one knows you exist."

"I'm sure the three of us can come up with a compromise that doesn't involve killing anyone," Elizabeth uncrossed her arms and straightened, "Until then, I expect you to treat Colonel Caldwell according to his rank and position within the SGC."

"Of course, ma'am, D looked over her shoulder to the control room, "Speaking of."

"_Dr. Weir_?" Carson's voice came over the radio, "_The first pod is ready_."

"I'll be right down," Elizabeth tapped her earpiece as Caldwell walked into the office, "Colonel Caldwell. Not staying with your ship?"

"Hermiod's doing some repairs to her hyperdrive that requires traveling in a wide orbit around the solar system," Caldwell looked between Elizabeth and D, "So while my ship flies in circles, I thought I'd beam down early and do a little repair work of my own."

"That's not necessary," Elizabeth insisted.

"I think it is," Caldwell disagreed, "The host to a Goa'uld parasite is aware of what's happening to him. I won't soon forget what I was forced to do," Caldwell gave D a concerned look, "What I would've done."

"You can't be held responsible for your actions, Colonel," D said evenly, "Whereas I can."

"You did what you had to do, Dr. Vaughn," Caldwell assured her, "Lives were at stake. I would've done the same thing, had the situation been reversed. And I meant what I said then; thank you for stopping me."

"We'll have to talk," D looked from Caldwell to Elizabeth, "the three of us."

"We'll meet in my quarters tonight at 2030," Elizabeth agreed, "Until then, Colonel Sheppard's team just discovered something very interesting in the Kohal system. Dr. Vaughn and I were just on our way down to see. Would you care to join us, Colonel?"

"I would love to," Caldwell smiled, "Thank you."


	50. Trust

**Warning for this chapter: There is lots of blood at the end and what I'm sure is some horrible medical procedure.**

* * *

"This is _not_ my fault," Rodney paced in the infirmary.

"Debatable," D scowled at him.

"We were all there," John spoke evenly, "It's no one's fault. Both of you relax."

Carson moved closer to the gurney when Elizabeth started to rouse.

"She's coming around," Carson declared calmly.

John, Rodney, D, and Caldwell moved closer to the bed as Elizabeth opened her eyes and sat up. She looked around at everyone before her eyes settled on John.

"You okay?" John asked cautiously.

"Dr. Weir is fine," Elizabeth smiled.

"Dr. Weir doesn't refer to herself in the third person," John said suspiciously.

Caldwell reached up to tap his earpiece, "Security team to the infirmary."

"That's not necessary, Colonel…Caldwell," Elizabeth shifted her gaze to him, "She is merely harboring my consciousness."

"Oh, here we go again," Rodney's face paled slightly.

"Who are you?" D questioned, expression blank as she shifted partially in front of Carson.

"I am Phebus," Elizabeth announced, "We are a race of explorers. On our journey home our vessel was attacked."

"By the Wraith?" Caldwell inquired warily.

"Yes," Elizabeth agreed, "We were forced to abandon ship and launch our life pods. If this has happened to me, then I've been adrift for some time and the pod has determined my body is beyond resuscitation."

"You're quite correct," Carson agreed gently.

"Then for all intents and purposes I am already dead," Elizabeth replied sadly.

"I'm sorry," Carson said quietly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," John scowled slightly, "We're all very sorry. Where is Elizabeth?"

"She is here also," Elizabeth informed them.

"I'd rather not take your word for that," D took a step closer to the bed, "Let me speak with her, now."

"Very well," Elizabeth closed her eyes and dipped her head down. She fell back against the pillow and raised a hand to her head.

Carson reached forward to touch her but was stopped by D's hand on his forearm. Elizabeth opened her eyes again.

"Dr. Weir?" D asked evenly as she released Carson's arm.

"Oh," Elizabeth dropped the hand back to her lap and smiled softly at Carson, "Oh, it's OK, Carson. I'm-I'm fine."

"Elizabeth?" John eyed her warily, "I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but there's another, um…"

"I know," Elizabeth turned her smile to John, "Her name is Phebus."

"You seem remarkably sanguine about all this," Rodney commented.

"Well, the imprinting will only last a matter of hours. The other pod," Elizabeth looked around at them, "Phebus urgently desires to be here when we bring the other pod back to Atlantis."

"Why?" John asked carefully.

Elizabeth's smile widened, "She believes it's her husband."

"Her husband?" Caldwell wondered.

"He escaped the ship – she's certain of it and, uh…" Elizabeth paused to laugh, "the rush of emotion is – it's overwhelming."

"I can imagine," John drawled.

"No, Rodney pointed a finger at him, "No, you can't."

"No," John looked from Rodney to Elizabeth, "I can't."

"John, I'd like you to try," Elizabeth smiled warmly, "Phebus has a favor she'd like to ask of you."

"What kind of favor?" John asked warily.

"I'd like to borrow your body for a while, John," Elizabeth answered easily, "I'm hoping you'll consent to be my husband for the day."

"Be your _what_?" John's ears pinked.

"I'm hoping you'll allow my husband to imprint on your body," Elizabeth looked down in her lap, "So that the two of us may have one last chance to say goodbye."

"With respect, ma'am," D interjected, "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"I'm going to have to agree with…" Caldwell hesitated as he looked from D to Elizabeth, "…Dr. Vaughn. I don't think it's a good idea to have two senior members of this expedition taken over by alien consciousnesses."

"Perhaps someone else would be better suited," D suggested evenly.

"Who else if not him?" Elizabeth laughed again.

"Elizabeth," D studied the other woman's face carefully, "I'm not sure you understand the-"

"I understand fully, Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "Why are you arguing with me about this?"

"I'm not arguing, ma'am," D straightened, "I am merely doing as you requested and offering my opinion before-"

"D, I want to John to do this," Elizabeth spoke firmly, "Surely you of all people understand why."

"I do, Elizabeth," D agreed quietly, "I just think-"

"It's a matter of trust," Elizabeth declared softly, "Do you trust my judgment?"

"Of course, ma'am," D ducked her head.

"And you trust Colonel Sheppard not to hurt me?" Elizabeth continued in her gentle tone.

"I do, ma'am," D looked up at John without lifting her head, "But it won't be-"

"Then what's the problem?" Elizabeth questioned.

"No problem, ma'am," D replied quickly, "My apologies."

Elizabeth kept staring at D's bowed head in silence.

John's steady voice broke the awkward tension that had fallen over the room, "Isn't anyone going to ask me if I agree to this?"

"Chords, Colonel," D looked up at him as she turned to leave, "You already did. If you'll excuse me, Dr. Weir, I'll oversee the transfer of the second pod to lab three."

"What does she mean 'chords'?" Caldwell watched D leave the infirmary.

"Red says weird stuff like that sometimes," Rodney rolled his eyes, "You get used to it."

"What do you say, John?" Elizabeth gave him an eager smile, "Will you be my husband for the day?"

"Sure," John smiled uneasily, "What's the worst that could happen?"

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

The pod slid open to reveal an unconscious man, white hair and wrinkles, dressed in an olive green jump suit.

"He's still alive," Carson consulted the scanner in his hand, "Same as before. Life signs even fainter than the first one. If we're gonna do this, we should do it now."

Caldwell turned to face John, "I'd prefer if this alien consciousness weren't armed.

"Right," John slid the gun from the holster at his thigh and held it out to Rodney.

Rodney stared at it for a second before he let out a surprised 'oh' and accepted it.

D scowled at both of them and mumbled under her breath as John stared at the pod nervously.

"Colonel Sheppard," Carson prompted, "You'll have to be in close proximity to the pod for the transfer to happen."

"Yeah, yeah," John continued to look at the old man, "I know."

"But you're not moving," Carson pointed out.

"You know, they were husband and wife," an uncomfortable expression twisted onto John's face, "Anything could happen."

Elizabeth's head dipped down and she inhaled sharply. She lifted her head again, a polite smile in place as she spoke, "I promise to be discreet, Colonel."

"Well, um, I guess I'll see you guys later," John shuffled closer to the pod slowly.

"Have fun," Rodney smirked.

A beam of white light shot out from the top of the pod, connecting with John's body and causing him to sway slightly as his head dropped down to his chest.

Carson moved forward, but Elizabeth held out a hand to stop him.

"Give him a moment," Elizabeth ordered evenly.

John inhaled sharply and his head snapped up, meeting Elizabeth's eyes.

"Thalen?" Elizabeth spoke calmly, "It's me."

"Phebus?" Thalen asked warily.

"It's all right," Phebus assured him, glancing around the room, "These people recovered our pods."

Carson waved at him awkwardly.

"We may well be the very last of our kind," Phebus moved closer to Thalen, "These generous people have allowed us to be together one last time."

"You consented to this?" Thalen started to look at Caldwell.

"Once last chance," Phebus drew Thalen's attention back to her, "to say goodbye to my husband."

Phebus reached up to grab ahold of Thalen's face, one hand on each side as she yanked him down to press their mouths together. As their kiss deepened, Carson blinked a couple times, then politely looked away and Caldwell did the same. Rodney's eyebrows lifted and he let out a small chuckle as he stared at the two of them. D's eyes narrowed, body tensing as she took a small step closer to Carson when Phebus and Thalen finally broke apart.

"It's not what I expected," Thalen admitted quietly.

"I know this body is different but I assure you, Thalen, it's me," Phebus dropped her hands back to her sides but held Thalen's gaze, "Is it possible for us to be alone, just for a few minutes?"

"No, absolutely not," Caldwell and D insisted at the same time.

"Oh, don't be so heartless," Carson chided.

"They are two consenting adults," Rodney agreed.

"That's not what I'm concerned about, Doctor," Caldwell replied.

"The Colonel's right," a familiar smirk crossed Thalen's face.

"Dr. Weir is in charge of this facility," Phebus reminded them.

"I'm just saying," Thalen continued, "there should be an armed guard just outside the door."

"Two guards," Phebus raised a brow, "One at each door."

"I've already taken that precaution," Caldwell informed them, "They're right outside."

"Of course they are," Phebus smiled.

Thalen returned her smile for a second, then the two of them broke apart.

Thalen raced out the door behind him, punching the guard to the floor as he grabbed the hand stunner from the guard's hand. Phebus ran to the other door, grabbing the guard's wrist and wrapping a hand around his throat to slam him to the floor as the first stunner blast impacted the wall above her. She yanked the stunner from his holster and brought it up in front of her as she stood against the outside of the door. D yanked Carson out of Thalen's line of fire as Caldwell's hand flew up to his earpiece.

"Security to lab three!" Caldwell yelled.

Thalen shot him with the stunner and D shoved Carson further behind her. Rodney aimed the gun he held vaguely towards the doorway and started shooting at Thalen, managing to hit him once in the arm.

"Stop shooting, McKay," D ordered, "That's still Sheppard's body."

"I'm sorry," Rodney snarked as Thalen ran off. He looked over to Phebus, raising both his hands in the air as she came into the room pointing the stunner at him, "You two need some very serious marriage counseling."

"He's not my husband," Phebus declared, "He's the enemy. Drop your weapon."

Rodney let the gun fall from his hands, clattering to the ground.

"Now radio security and tell them everything is fine," Phebus commanded.

Carson stepped out from behind D, "Everything's not fine."

Phebus swung her arm around to fire the stunner at Carson without looking away from Rodney. D shoved Carson to the side, taking part of the stunner blast in her right arm as he collapsed to the ground. Phebus re-aimed the stunner at Rodney.

"Rodney?" Phebus prompted.

"Make that call and I'll break your fingers, McKay," D spoke harshly.

Phebus fired the stunner at D, who turned at the last second, the blast hitting her once more in the right arm and making her sway tremulously on her feet.

Rodney tapped his headset quickly, "Security, this is Doctor Rodney McKay. Everything is fine, never been better. Uh, Colonel Caldwell was kidding when he said what he said-"

"Oh, forget it," Phebus interrupted Rodney with a stun blast, moving over to pick up the dropped gun and yank his headset off, "This is Doctor Weir. Attention all personnel. Colonel Sheppard is not – I repeat, not – who he pretends to be. If you find him, secure the area and contact me immediately. I'll deal with him myself."

Phebus turned to aim both weapons at D, standing on the opposite side of the pod, right arm limp at her side as she clenched her jaw tight.

"You don't go down easy," Phebus raised an eyebrow, "do you, Azrael?"

"I don't," D's eyes blackened as she took an unsteady step forward, "Let Dr. Weir go."

"I don't think so," Phebus smiled severely, "You're going to help me find and kill Thalen."

"No," D said calmly, "I'm not."

"I am giving you an order, Azrael," Phebus stepped closer.

"You are not my _Domina_," D tilted her chin up, "I follow her orders. No one else's."

"You swore to protect Elizabeth," Phebus reminded her, "You can't stop me without hurting her. Help me find Thalen and Elizabeth stays safe."

"I also promised to keep Colonel Sheppard safe," D insisted evenly, steady on her feet once more as she took a small step forward, "I will not help you. You're going to get one move, Phebus, before I take you down. I suggest you choose it wisely."

"One move it is," Phebus fired a single shot into D's chest, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. A spray of crimson splattered behind her as D fell backwards to the ground. Blood started pooling out around D as she struggled to breathe.

"If you're not going to help," Phebus turned to leave the room, "Then stay out of my way."

A couple minutes later, Caldwell started regaining consciousness, standing slowly as Ronon and Teyla rushed into the room.

"Get a medic," Caldwell shouted as he rushed over to kneel by D. He pressed both hands down against the gunshot wound on the right side of D's chest, trying to stem the heavy flow of blood.

"We have a medical emergency in Lab Three," Teyla spoke into her radio, "Dr. Vaughn has been shot in the chest. We need immediate assistance."

"What happened?" Ronon questioned as he moved over to shake Carson awake.

"Never…her…" D choked out the words, blood bubbling out of her mouth as her eyes fluttered closed, "Stupid…should have…known…"

"Don't try to talk," Caldwell commanded, "Help will be here soon."

Rodney started to rouse with a loud groan. Carson sat up and shook his head slightly to clear it before he turned to see the pool of blood still spreading on the floor under D, Caldwell kneeling next to her.

"Oh god. Keep pressure, Colonel," Carson moved over to her immediately, slapping D's face lightly to get her to look at him, "D, pay attention to me. Do not slow your bleeding right now. I'll need to perform surgery to repair the damage. Do you understand me? Do _not_ slow the bleeding or you'll bleed out on the table. Can you tell me if the bullet is still inside?"

"Through…" D shook her head weakly, "Lung…top lobe…ribs…"

"All right, lass, just hold on," Carson held out a hand without looking away from her, "I need something to cut through her uniform."

Ronon quickly handed over one of his small knives. Carson use it to cut D's jacket and shirt down the middle and sides, throwing the knife to the side before he motioned to Caldwell. Caldwell lifted his hands as Carson yanked the fabric off, then quickly pressed one hand back down against her chest, using the other to help Carson lift D slightly to press the wadded up clothes against the jagged hole in her back.

"Control Room," Caldwell reached up with one bloody hand to tap his radio, "patch my radio through to security teams only. This is Caldwell. Both Doctor Weir and Colonel Sheppard are under the influence of alien entities. If at all possible, subdue and contain them with non-lethal force."

"We can track them down faster," Ronon insisted.

"There is a medical team on the way," Teyla looked to Carson, "Do you want us to-"

"There's nothing else you can do here," Carson nodded shortly, "I've got her."

"Wait…" more blood bubbled from D's mouth, "Nem and Cor…_Notieren_ and…" [German: Takedown.]

"_Loslassen_," Ronon finished, "I know, _kuahine_." [German: Let go.]

"Go," Caldwell ordered.

Ronon and Teyla took off running.

"Is she going to die?" Rodney stood awkwardly next to Caldwell, shifting from foot to foot nervously.

"Not if I have a say in the matter," Carson pressed harder against the wound.

"McK-" D coughed up blood as she spoke, struggling to keep her eyes open, "Rodney."

"I'm here," Rodney knelt down next to Carson in front of D, "You're going to be fine. Carson will-"

"Qu-quiet," D wrapped her left hand around the skin of his wrist, "Access…codes…"

"Whose codes, yours?" Rodney watched D shake her head and continued quickly, "Elizabeth's?" a short nod, "and Sheppard's?" another nod, "I'll invalidate them as soon as I get to the control room."

"They'll use…City…" D's grip on Rodney loosened, "the power…"

"I'll send Marines to guard the ZPM room," Caldwell assured her, "Just let Dr. Beckett take care of you."

"No," D insisted as she gripped Rodney tighter again, struggling to stay conscious, "Off."

D's hand fell to the ground limply and her eyes shut again just as the medical team came running into the lab.

"I didn't do anything," Rodney insisted as he backed out of the way quickly, "Is she-"

"No pulse," Carson pressed two fingers against her neck, "Starting compressions."

Caldwell moved out of the way of the medics, reaching over to grab Rodney by the collar and pull him away as Carson started pushing his hands down on D's chest in a steady rhythm.


	51. Power

"Report," Caldwell ordered as he came down the stairs into the control room.

Chuck took one look at Caldwell's blood-stained hands and the ruined red cuffs of his green uniform, then over to the bloody handprint around Rodney's wrist and gestured to another technician.

"We just lost contact with Major Lorne," Chuck looked back to the console in front of him.

Rodney pushed past Caldwell and slid into a chair to start typing furiously on a laptop.

"All right," Caldwell commanded, "I want all non-essential personnel to return directly to their quarters and remain there until notified. The only people I want moving through the city are my security teams."

"Sir," Chuck looked up from his screen, "Ronon and Teyla have already retrieved the kits and they're beginning their search now."

"Kits?" Caldwell questioned.

"Think really big cats," Rodney continued typing, "with the personality of a smart-ass German shepherd. They'll be able to track and subdue Elizabeth and Sheppard faster and easier than any of the security personnel. There," Rodney finished typing and rolled to a different console as he waved away the offered towel from one of the technicians, "Both their command codes have been invalidated, so they can't interfere with the City's operating systems. Well, Elizabeth won't be able to do anything. Sheppard still has the gene so he might be able to convince the City to do what he wants – if she's in a good mood today."

"What are you talking about?" Caldwell accepted a small towel and started cleaning his hands as the tech waited.

"Never mind," Rodney studied the large monitor in front of him, "We may be able to track their progress using the life signs detectors."

"How, sir?" Chuck wondered, "They'll read as human. We won't be able to differentiate."

"Security teams travel in groups of two or more. They'll be the only individual signals travelling through the city. Let's go," Caldwell ordered. No one in the room moved as he turned to look at Rodney, "What are you waiting for?"

"Uh, look," Rodney said hesitantly, "I don't wanna get all, uh, chain of command on you here but, um, I am a senior member of this expedition, so with Elizabeth and Colonel Sheppard out of the equation, then…"

"I'm in charge," Caldwell handed the dirty towel back to the technician.

"No-no, no-no, see, I-I don't think that's technically true," Rodney stammered, "Because you are here for, like, what, about one week out of six. That doesn't-"

"Is it possible that because I was host to a Goa'uld," Caldwell asked calmly, "you don't trust me, Doctor?"

"I didn't say that," Rodney insisted.

"I'm the highest-ranking military officer here, and this is clearly a military situation," Caldwell looked around the room before his stare settled back on Rodney, "Does that clear things up for you?"

"Fine," Rodney agreed as he looked back to his laptop, "Chuck."

"Notifying security teams now," Chuck nodded and everyone began working again, "Non-essential personnel have already been ordered back to their quarters."

"Why power?" Rodney stared absently down at the bloody hand on his arm, "What's so important about the power? If their codes are locked out, they can't do anything dangerous. I don't understand."

"Dr. McKay?" Caldwell questioned.

"Red," Rodney scowled slightly, "She said 'power off'. I don't know what she meant."

"Dr. Vaughn lost a great deal of blood," Caldwell reminded him, "She was probably in shock. I'm not sure she knew what she was saying."

"No," Rodney's voice was firm as he looked up at Caldwell, "It meant something important. I know it did. She wouldn't have wasted her breath on something that wasn't. There has to be-"

"Sir," Chuck interrupted, "I'm picking up some chatter I think you'll want to hear."

"Put it on speaker," Caldwell ordered.

Chuck reached over to tap a couple keys on his laptop as Rodney stood to join them by the console.

"_You're the one that likes to run_," Thalen's familiar voice came over the speakers, "_My ship ran out of fuel before I could even get a clean shot_."

"_That was my plan_," Phebus insisted.

"_You didn't have a plan_," Thalen argued, "_You just wanted me dead_."

"_Still do_," Phebus replied easily, "_As a matter of fact, I can't wait to see that look of defeat on your face, just one last time_."

"_You mean the look on my face when you rammed my fighter, making sure neither one of us would win_?" Thalen countered, "_That was hatred, not defeat, Phebus_."

"_Is that any way to talk to your wife_?" Phebus paused, "_Thalen_? _Run all you like. The moment I find you, you die_."

There was a long silence in the control room before Chuck spoke again.

"For two people who are supposed to be married," Chuck shook his head, "They don't seem to like each other very much."

"That whole thing was a ruse," Caldwell leaned on the nearest console, "In fact, I doubt very much if we were ever speaking with Doctor Weir."

"It was a remarkable impression," Rodney agreed, "I'll give you that."

"From the sound of it," Caldwell continued, "we have two fighter pilots who don't know that their war is over."

"It is much worse than that," Rodney asserted, waving anxiously at the ceiling, "They know everything about this city – the layout, defensive systems, how to access weapons…"

"We just need to find a way to stop them without unduly harming the hosts," Caldwell straightened.

"'Unduly'?" Rodney frowned, "What does that mean?"

"Well, obviously, some force may be necessary," Caldwell turned away to face the gate.

"The kits will be able to take them down without serious injuries, sir," Chuck spoke earnestly, "They just did a training session yesterday for non-lethal takedowns. Nemesis and Cor are the best of the litter when it comes to tracking. It won't be long before Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Weir are located."

"Non-lethal takedown training," Caldwell turned back, crossing his arms over his chest, "and giant cats with the disposition of German shepherds. It seems I missed a few things the last couple months."

"Yes, sir," Chuck agreed evenly.

"I'm still not convinced keeping those things here was a good idea," Rodney huffed quietly, "Much less training them to sniff out explosives and hunt down people like antelope."

"I think I'll put my trust in the security teams," Caldwell dropped his arms, "if it's all the same to you, Sergeant. Any progress?"

"All non-essential personnel are now in their quarters, sir," Chuck informed him, "Security teams are still working on locating Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Weir. Additional personnel are on their way to securing all critical areas and medical teams are on stand-by. Ronon and Teyla have made their way back to the central tower with the kits and have joined the search."

"Contact any teams that may be off-world," Caldwell ordered, "Let them know that we're suspending all gate activity until further notice. Dr. McKay," Caldwell turned to him, "Now that everyone's out of the way-"

"I'm looking now," Rodney moved over to the console with a large screen hanging above it.

"We are going to full alert status," Caldwell announced to the room.

"I think I just located one of them near the power room," Rodney pointed towards the screen, "Power…power…" Rodney's eyes widened and he whirled to face Caldwell, "They're going to cut the-"

All the lights went dark.

"-power," Rodney finished angrily, "I thought you were going to send people to guard the ZPM room."

"I did. Two Marines from _Daedalus_," Caldwell tapped his headset, "Hutchinson, this is Caldwell, report?"

Rodney accepted a lit flashlight from one of the near-by technicians before heading back to the main consoles to begin typing on several laptops.

When there was no response over the radio, Caldwell turned to Chuck again, "Where's auxiliary power?"

"Naquadah generators aren't kicking in," Chuck responded, "He or she must have damaged the back-ups."

"We've lost everything?" Caldwell looked to Rodney.

"Shields, communications, long range and biometric sensors," Rodney confirmed indignantly.

"The sensors from the _Daedalus_," Caldwell suggested, "we can contact them."

"Subspace communications are also down," Rodney scowled up at Caldwell furiously, "I knew it was important. Damn it."

"I need for you to get down to the power room, Doctor," Caldwell commanded, "Restore primary systems."

"_This is Dr. Beckett_," Carson's strained voice came over the radio, "_We've lost power in the infirmary. What's going on?_"

"One of them took out the power in the whole City, Carson," Rodney continued to glare at Caldwell, "Marines may have been injured. I can't go down there."

"I will send two of my people along with you just in case," Caldwell gestured to two of the armed men by the stairs.

"Well, how do we know that Sheppard isn't down there waiting in ambush?" Rodney questioned nervously.

"_He's not trying to kill you_," Carson snapped, "_He's trying to kill Dr. Weir. Rodney, I am wrist deep in Dr. Vaughn's chest right now, trying to sew up a hole in her lung. I need the power back on in the infirmary. Please._"

"All right, I'm going," Rodney turned to the waiting men, "Come on."

"_Thank you, Rodney. Beckett, out_," Carson's radio clicked off.

"A medical team is on its way as well," Chuck announced, "with replacement security personnel."

"Let me know the moment you have a damage assessment," Caldwell called after Rodney.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Ronon? Are you in there?" Thalen took a cautious step forward in the dark, "Ronon? Are you there? Look, I came here looking for you, buddy, so, uh, don't shoot or you'll ruin my entire plan. What'd Caldwell tell you?"

"That you're not who you say you are," Ronon stayed concealed just inside the armory, his blaster held ready.

"Yeah, well, consider the source," Thalen declared, lowering his P90 to aim at the ground, "If there are two alien entities running around, and it's him and Weir. I'm the good guy here."

"So who cut the power?" Ronon questioned.

"Okay, I admit," Thalen confessed, "that was me."

"Why?" Ronon asked carefully.

"I'm just trying to stay alive here," Thalen replied, "Caldwell's giving the orders and you're the only one I can trust not to shoot me on sight."

"And what about Weir?" Ronon inquired.

"Her, you can shoot," Thalen paused shortly, "And by shoot…I mean stun, and only because she's not herself."

"Can you prove you're you?" Ronon shifted on his feet.

"No, I can't," Thalen claimed.

Ronon came out from around the corner, gun raised and aimed at Thalen.

"What would Sheppard watch on TV?" Ronon studied Thalen's face carefully.

"No," Thalen shook his head, "That won't work."

"Why not?" Ronon took another step closer.

"Because if there was an alien consciousness in my head," Thalen held himself still, "he'd know the answer was football."

"But only Sheppard would admit that," Ronon smirked.

"Right," Thalen agreed as Ronon lowered his blaster, "Look, just help me find her before they do. That's all I'm asking."

"Give me the gun," Ronon held his hand out.

"Can I keep my stunner?" Thalen's hand lifted to the stunner tucked inside his vest.

"Yeah," Ronon nodded.

Thalen stepped forward and handed his P90 to Ronon. Ronon accepted the gun, moving to set it on one of the tables inside the armory. He turned back to Thalen, his face serious as he spoke.

"_Notieren_," Ronon ordered sharply. [German: Takedown.]

A gray blur flew past Ronon and leapt towards Thalen. He shouted in pain as Nemesis clamped her jaw down on his right arm, jerking him to his knees as Ronon aimed his blaster again.

"If you move," Ronon spoke calmly, "She'll tear your arm off."

"Ronon, buddy," Thalen started, "Listen…"

"You're not Sheppard," Ronon reached down to yank the stunner from Thalen's vest, tossing it towards the armory, "He calls Dr. Weir 'Elizabeth', not Weir."

"Call the cat off," Thalen pleaded as Nemesis let out a low growl, "She's got sharp teeth."

"Yes, she does," Ronon grinned severely as he reached up to tap his earpiece, "This is Ronon. I have Sheppard."

"_What's your location_?" Chuck responded quickly.

"We're outside the secondary armory on level twelve," Ronon kept his blaster pointed at the man on the floor, "Send security. And a medical team. Nemesis got him."

"_They're on their way now_," the smile was easy to hear in Chuck's voice, "_I'll let the rest of the security teams know they're only looking for Dr. Weir. Two minutes until a team arrives at your location_."

"Not going anywhere," Ronon tapped his radio off, "One down, one to go."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Well," Rodney inspected the ZPM in his hands carefully, "The good news is the ZedPM is still intact."

"_And the bad_?" Caldwell's voice came through Rodney's earpiece.

Rodney looked down at the destroyed control panel, "Well, the control system's been damaged by some well-placed weapons fire."

"_How soon until it's operational again_?" Caldwell questioned tersely.

"I don't know," Rodney complained, "I just got here."

"_Report when you can_," Caldwell ordered.

"Right," Rodney sighed heavily and set the ZPM back on top of the power station.

Rodney got out his tablet and tool kit, settling on the floor to begin work on the exposed wires as the medical team took the injured Marines away. He spent several minutes mumbling and cursing under his breath, trying to find out exactly how much damage had been done and figuring out a way to put it back together. He was just starting to make some progress when his radio interrupted him.

"_McKay, report please,_" most of the earlier tension was gone from Caldwell's voice.

"Still working," Rodney replied snippily.

"_It doesn't have to be pretty, Doctor_," Caldwell reminded him, "_just get the primary systems up and running again_."

"Yeah, that _is_ what I'm doing," Rodney adjusted a couple of the wires.

"_Ronon's managed to capture Colonel Sheppard_," Caldwell announced, "_He's on his way to the infirmary now, under heavy guard. It seems Sgt. Campbell was correct about the kits_."

"Well, that's fantastic," Rodney snarked, "Now all your space Marines have to do is track down one heavily armed civilian possessed by the consciousness of an extremely pissed off fighter pilot hell-bent on killing Sheppard who also happens to be controlled by a crazy alien brain."

"_I've already doubled security around the infirmary_," Caldwell informed him, "_They'd like to know when they can expect the power back on. Beckett's getting a little upset about having to perform major surgery with flashlights. What should I tell him_?"

"I'm working on it," Rodney snapped, "I'd be working a lot faster if I wasn't getting interrupted every three minutes with inane questions."

"_Dr. McKay_…" Caldwell started.

"Working," Rodney insisted crossly.


	52. Unknown

"Good morning," John drawled lazily.

Elizabeth blinked open her eyes slowly, lifting her head to look around the infirmary. She saw John in the bed next to her, purposely avoiding looking at her as he tapped his PDA.

"Good morning," Elizabeth let her head fall back to the pillow.

"What's-her-name sure hung in there for a while," John continued.

"When-" Elizabeth cleared her throat, "When did she…?"

"Some time in the middle of the night," John answered easily, "Kicking and screaming."

"Yeah, well, that was," Elizabeth paused, "the strangest feeling, you know? The entire time I was shouting to everyone, but nothing I wanted to would come out of my mouth."

"I know," John agreed, "It was a real nightmare. Teyla says it took Cor and two teams heavily armed Marines to finally subdue you. Of course, that was _after_ you beat the crap out of Lorne and his team. And after you gave Baumann a concussion by smashing his head into the floor."

"Oh god," Elizabeth's cheeks flushed, "But I wasn't…"

"I know, I know," John reassured her, "It was her. At least you only got a couple bruises," John waved his bandaged arm, "I got four tooth-sized puncture wounds in my arm."

"Nemesis?" Elizabeth smiled faintly.

"Yup," John nodded.

"Do you think they'll ever really believe it wasn't really us?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

"To be honest," John set the PDA down in his lap, "I think the only people who believe one hundred percent are Beckett…you…"

"And me," Caldwell walked over to stand next to John's bed, "In fact, I can safely say that I know how you feel."

"Yes, sir," John shifted uncomfortably.

"Thank you, Colonel," Elizabeth smiled politely, "For keeping a potentially explosive situation under control."

"I had some help," Caldwell's expression stayed neutral, "Dr. Weir, I need to ask you what you remember about the incident."

"Pretty much everything," Elizabeth admitted cautiously, "Even if it's a still a little foggy. What's wrong, Colonel?"

"It's about Dr. Vaughn," Caldwell glanced at John, "She…"

"Oh my god," Elizabeth sat up abruptly, "I shot her. Is she all right? Where is she?"

"She's stable for now," Caldwell reached up to tap his earpiece, "Dr. Beckett, Dr. Weir is awake now."

Caldwell tapped his earpiece off again, but stayed quiet.

"You shot Vaughn?" John turned to look at Elizabeth, "When?"

"I tried to make her…" Elizabeth's lips pressed into a firm line as she trailed off, "Phebus wanted her help to kill you and she refused. She stunned everyone else, but…"

"But what?" John scowled slightly.

"According to the security footage," Caldwell spoke evenly, "Dr. Vaughn took one partial and one full stunner blast. It was enough to slow her down considerably, but not enough to take her down. Killing her, or attempting to at least, was really the only way to keep her from stopping the alien consciousness inhabiting your body. She still managed to give us a few clues before she…"

"Before she what?" Elizabeth paled as Carson came around the corner, "Carson, how bad?"

"If she were anyone else, Elizabeth," Carson reached over to lay a gentle hand over Elizabeth's, "She'd be dead now."

"I didn't mean…" Elizabeth shook her head weakly, "It wasn't…"

"It wasn't you, love," Carson assured her, "I know. The bullet entered her chest on the right side, approximately three inches above and to the right of her heart. It fractured two ribs before it tore through the top lobe of her lung and exited just below her scapula, breaking three more ribs. Her heart stopped once while we were still in the lab, for a little over a minute, and again for three minutes during the surgery. I was able to repair the damage to her lung and the surrounding arteries and set her ribs properly. She's stable for now and somehow breathing on her own, but she's still in critical condition," Carson took a deep breath before he continued softly, "I'm not sure what to tell you to expect, Elizabeth. Again, if she were anyone else, I don't think she would have survived. Even now, I have no idea if she'll ever regain full use of her right arm."

Elizabeth stayed silent, closing her eyes and taking several careful breaths before she opened her eyes and squeezed Carson's hand tightly.

"Is there anything you can do, Doc?" John asked quietly, "Anything the rest of us can do to help?"

"Well," Carson looked over to Caldwell nervously, then back to Elizabeth, "Rodney thinks he's found some sort of Ancient tissue healer in the database. He's located the corresponding lab in the City and I sent someone with him to look into it. His team reported back an hour ago that they found the device and it appears to function as advertised, but…"

"But what?" Elizabeth questioned.

"It hasn't been tested on humans yet," Carson sighed.

"If it's a matter of testing," John raised his bandaged arm, "I don't mind being a guinea pig."

"It's not that simple, Colonel," Caldwell shook his head, "Not when it comes to Dr. Vaughn."

"He's right," Carson agreed wearily, "Even if we do test it and it works exactly as it's supposed to, I'm not sure I'd want to use it on D. I have no idea how her body would react to the rapid healing. She heals so quickly as it is, I'm afraid if I accelerate it any further, I could be doing more harm than good. I don't know enough about her condition to make a determination. I could ask her about it, but Colonel Caldwell asked that I keep her under sedation until you were awake."

"I thought it would be best," Caldwell nodded towards Elizabeth, "considering the circumstances."

"You sedated D?" Elizabeth's eyes widened, "How long has she been under?"

"I had little choice, Elizabeth," Carson insisted, "I had to sedate her for the surgery and you were incapacitated, so I-"

"Carson," Elizabeth cut him off harshly, "How long?"

"Twenty hours," Carson blew out a breath.

"Damn it," Elizabeth swore quietly, "I suppose it could be worse. I could have killed her."

"I have two armed guards in that section of the infirmary, just in case," Caldwell assured her, "They're armed with tasers, since the Wraith stunners didn't seem to have much of an effect, as well as their standard nine-millimeters."

"I doubt that will make a difference if she wakes up before I'm there," Elizabeth looked up at Carson, "How long until I'm cleared, Carson? The sooner we can wake D up, the better."

"Just a couple quick tests to make sure you're all right," Carson moved over to start unwinding the bandage on John's arm, "And I'll have a nurse bring you both something to eat. The two of you have been cooped up in my infirmary since they brought you in yesterday. How's the arm feel, Colonel?"

"Like I got bit," John drawled, "and yanked to the ground by giant tabby with an attitude problem."

"I have to admit, those animals were pretty impressive," Caldwell admitted, "They managed to track you down a lot faster than the security teams. Does the IOA know you've been training them here in the City?"

"Training, no," Elizabeth replied neutrally, "But they know we took in teenage refugees from a culled planet a couple months ago."

"Teenage refugees?" Caldwell raised an eyebrow.

"According to the astrobiologists," Elizabeth smiled wryly, "and our research in the Ancient database, the _mphakas_ aren't fully grown yet."

"Still kittens then," Caldwell smirked.

"And still in training," John snorted, "Imagine what they'll be able to do in six months."

"They'll be running the City by then," Elizabeth laughed, "I'm sure."

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm sure you'll both agree that the paperwork on this is going to be a nightmare," Caldwell paused as he turned to leave and grinned widely, "especially that kiss."

"Aye," Carson beamed at John and Elizabeth as Caldwell left, "It was a very interesting kiss. Don't you think?"

Any response John or Elizabeth could've made was forestalled by a blood-curdling scream from across the infirmary, followed by a loud crash and raised voices. Carson dropped John's bandage on the bed next to him and took off running towards the noise. John and Elizabeth both ripped the wires from their foreheads, jumping out of the bed to follow Carson to where the commotion was. They came around the corner to see two uniformed guards on the ground, their guns in pieces next to them. D was standing next to one of them, her tangled hair loose down the back of her white scrubs and her IV line torn from the stand, partly wrapped around her left hand. The medical staff was scrambling away out of the way, but D managed to grab a nurse, slipping the IV over the man's head and pulling it around his throat as she backed up against the nearest wall. Her body was almost entirely hidden by the man's larger frame, only part of her hands and arms showing.

"Anyone else comes near me," D declared coolly, "this man dies."

"Dr. Vaughn," Carson held his hands up but stayed where he was, "I need you to let Mark go. You're hurting him."

"Not a chance," D growled and tightened the line further, the nurse's face reddening as he started gasping in short breaths, "Back off or I kill him."

"Clear the room," John ordered, "Now."

The guards got to their feet slowly, making sure the medical staff got out of the room before they started reaching for the pieces of their guns.

"You touch those guns," D stated evenly, "and it'll be the last thing you ever do."

John made a quick gesture and both guards stepped back.

"Sir?" the closest guard handed John the taser from his belt.

"Out," John commanded quietly, "Contact Ronon and Teyla. Don't let anyone else near."

"Yes, sir," both guards left the room quickly.

Only John, Elizabeth, Carson, D, and the nurse she still held in front of her were left in the room.

"No one is going to hurt you, D," Elizabeth spoke calmly, "Can you let him go, please?"

"No," there was a wave of tangled burgundy hair visible as D shook her head, "Back away."

"All right, lass," Carson took several steps backwards, "Just relax."

"Why is it so bright?" D asked rapidly, "Turn the lights down."

John sent a quick thought to the City and the lights dimmed.

"There," John spoke steadily, "Not so bright. Can you let Mark go now?"

"What did you do to me this time?" D questioned angrily, "Haven't you finished your experiments by now? There can't be much left to change."

"Experiments?" John whispered the question to Elizabeth, but she only shook her head in response.

"No experiments, love," Carson assured her, "I promise. You were sedated for surgery yesterday."

"I'm not stupid, _Doctor_," D spit the last word like a curse, "Full sedation for surgery means more experiments. There's a foreign object in my left bicep and enough surgical silk in my right lung to knit a sweater. I will not repeat myself again. What did you do to me?"

"The foreign object is your subcutaneous transmitter," Elizabeth explained, "The silk is to repair your wound. Do you know where you are right now?"

"A medical facility," D loosened the IV line and the nurse drew in several quick breaths.

"A medical facility _where_?" Elizabeth asked carefully.

"I…" D faltered, "I don't…"

"Tell me where you are," Elizabeth commanded evenly.

"I already answered you," D yanked the line tight again and the nurse's face started turning slightly purple, "Stop trying to confuse me."

"Mark can't take much more," Carson looked to Elizabeth anxiously.

"Let Nurse Kelly go," John commanded firmly, "He's not a threat."

"What the hell is that noise?" D shifted the man to the side, revealing her terrified expression and irises fluctuating between black and gray, "Who the hell is singing? Where is that melody coming from?"

"Elizabeth," John raised the taser to aim at D, "Put her down."

"No," Elizabeth argued quietly, "She doesn't need-"

"If I tase her," John interrupted, "her muscles will spasm and that cord will get yanked even tighter."

"D, please," Elizabeth pleaded, "You're confused because of the sedation. Let Mark go and I promise I'll explain everything."

"NO!" D shouted, her rapidly-changing gaze shifting between the three of them, "Make the noise stop. MAKE IT STOP!"

"Do it, Elizabeth," John ordered sharply.

"I'm sorry, D," Elizabeth whispered. She straightened and stepped forward, voice strong and even when she continued, "Azrael, _obedite_." [Latin: Obey]

D's wild-eyed stare went immediately to Elizabeth, her irises finally settling on black.

"_Quod sic, Domina,_" D answered automatically, loosening her grip on the IV line. [Latin: Yes, Mistress.]

"Release Nurse Kelly immediately, unharmed," Elizabeth commanded.

"_Quod sic, Domina_," D dropped the IV line to the floor.

The nurse moved away quickly, waved out of the room by Carson, and John lowered the taser. A dark crimson stain began spreading over the front of D's white top.

"_Descende, _Azrael," Elizabeth ordered. [Latin: Down.]

"_Quod sic, Domina_," D sank gracefully to her knees.

Elizabeth walked forward slowly as D bowed her head, long hair falling over her shoulders to cover her face.

"Look at me, _angelus_," Elizabeth spoke gently. [Latin: angel]

D tilted her head back, a serene expression on her face as Elizabeth swept the hair away back behind her ear.

"When I bring you back up," Elizabeth laid her palm against D's cheek, "You're going to remember exactly when and where you are. The only people in the room besides me are John and Carson. Neither of them are a threat to you or to me. No one here is going to hurt you. Do you understand?"

"_Quod sic, Domina_," D turned her head to press a small kiss to Elizabeth's palm.

John moved to set the taser on a nearby shelf and moved closer to Elizabeth.

"_Bonum puella_," Elizabeth dropped her hand back to her side, "_Assurgo_." [Latin: Good girl.] [Latin: Rise up.]

D blinked rapidly, irises fading back to ash gray as she started trembling.

"D?" Elizabeth asked cautiously.

"'Lizbeth?" D paled, eyes widening in fear as she focused on the woman standing in front of her before she started muttering, "No. NO! _No-no-no-no-no_-"

"It's okay," Elizabeth assured her quickly, "You're okay."

D's voice got louder and more hysterical, switching between dozens of languages until she was screaming and tears were streaming freely down her face.

"It's okay," Elizabeth knelt down as D began shaking violently and she wrapped her arms around the smaller woman, "No one's going to hurt you. You're safe. Shhhh. I've got you."

John shook his head when Ronon and Teyla came into the room, holding out a hand to stop them before they got too close. D let her head fall against Elizabeth's collarbone, screaming unrecognizable words into her chest as Elizabeth held her tight.

"Shhh, it's all right," Elizabeth kept D's head against her chest, "Relax. You're safe. I need you to calm down and breathe with me. Can you do that for me, angel? Just breathe with me."

D quieted somewhat, still babbling incoherently as she took unsteady breaths and her hands shook in her lap.

"That's good," Elizabeth ran her hands down D's back in soothing motions, "You're doing great, D. Just keep breathing with me."

"I didn't mean to," D mumbled the words into Elizabeth's shirt, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. _Me paenitet_. _Je suis désolé_. _Mne zhal'_." [Latin-French-Russian: I'm sorry.]

"I've got you," Elizabeth insisted quietly, "I won't let anyone hurt you."

"I thought he was…" D spoke hesitantly, her breathing evening out, "I wasn't going to let them…"

"You're safe," Elizabeth kept up the gentle motions, "You are _safe_ here."

"Safe," D repeated numbly as she finally stopped trembling, "No one's going to hurt me here."

"That's right," Elizabeth agreed softly, "You're safe."

"Why the fuck does my chest feel like it's on fire?" D sat back slightly and looked down at the large blood stain on her scrubs, "I'm bleeding. Why am I bleeding?"

A guilty look came over Elizabeth's face and her hands stilled on D's back.

"Because you got shot yesterday," John answered carefully.

"Huh? I got…_Oh_," D frowned slightly as she looked back up at Elizabeth, "Right. I remember now. Elizabeth, you shot me."

"Yes, I did," Elizabeth winced as she wiped the trail of tears from D's face, "I'm sorry about that."

"Am I still bleeding from yesterday?" D asked warily, "'cause I'm pretty sure that's a bad thing."

"You're bleeding again because you've pulled your sutures loose," Carson moved closer cautiously, "The bullet went through your right lung, causing it to collapse, and you've broken several ribs. That's why it's difficult for you to breathe right now. You lost several pints of blood in the lab. Your heart stopped for a minute just as the medical team arrived. I performed surgery to repair the tears to the tissue, re-inflating your lung, and setting your ribs. Your heart stopped again during surgery for another three minutes. You've been under heavy sedation for the last twenty hours. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure how you're awake right now."

"Didn't switch the medications," D mumbled weakly, "Body gets used to processing the drugs."

"I'll keep that in mind for the future," Carson took another step closer, "l need to check your sutures and redress your wounds. Let's get you up off the cold floor, shall we?"

"Not sure I can stand by myself," D admitted faintly, "Adrenaline is wearing off. I may need some help getting up."

"I don't think Teyla and I can lift you by ourselves," Elizabeth studied D's face, "Will you be all right if John and Ronon carry you back to bed?"

D looked over Elizabeth's shoulder to the two men as she chewed her bottom lip.

"Yeah," D finally agreed.

"You sure?" Elizabeth asked carefully.

"I'd rather not be carried," D gave a jerky shrug, "But they're safe."

"Careful of her arm, lads," Carson reminded them, "Try not to jar her."

John and Ronon moved forward quietly, taking D from Elizabeth's arms and carrying her carefully between them to the nearest gurney. Teyla stepped forward and offered a hand to pull Elizabeth to her feet. D settled onto her left side as John and Ronon moved out of the way. Carson came over and started undoing the snaps on the top of D's scrubs.

"No more sedation," D fixed Carson with a hard stare.

"As long as you promise to stay in bed until I tell you it's okay to get up again," Carson agreed as John stooped to pick up the pieces of guns off the floor, "But I am going to have to give you a local anesthetic while I fix your stitches."

"Fine, but only because I have a forty-five caliber hole in my chest," D closed her eyes, "Colonel can't carry a nine like everyone else."

"Sometimes you just need the big bullets," John handed the guns to Ronon and retrieved the taser.

"Asshole," D muttered under her breath.

"I will stay to assist you, Carson," Teyla moved over to help Carson start peeling the bloody fabric away from D's shoulder.

"The rest of you should go," Carson lifted the bandage from D's wound, "This will take a while. Elizabeth, could you make sure someone's checking on Mark's neck please? And ask Marie to come help, but tell everyone else this section of the infirmary is off limits until further notice."

"Of course," Elizabeth nodded, turning to follow John and Ronon out of the room.

"Wait," D called hesitantly, "Elizabeth?"

"Yes?" Elizabeth looked back to D.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," D spoke quietly.

"For what?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"For not knowing," D answered softly, "I should have known it wasn't you. I won't make that mistake again, ma'am."


	53. Late Night

"Rodney," when the other man didn't answer Radek repeated his name louder, "_Rodney_."

"What?" Rodney finally looked up from his laptop, "I'm busy."

"It is getting late," Radek took off his glasses to rub his eyes, "Perhaps we should pick this up again in the morning."

"It's not that late," Rodney scowled at the man across the table.

"It is 2600," Radek replaced his glasses, "That is late. You have barely left this lab the last four days. You must rest. "

"I slept last night," Rodney insisted, "and the night before that."

"Spending three hours passed out at your computer," Radek frowned, "does not count as sleep. And it will not help you figure out the device any faster."

"I have the device basically figured out," Rodney claimed, "I'm just working on some final details."

"If you do not rest," Radek stood and came around the table to stand next to Rodney, "you will start making mistakes.

"This could be a huge deal, Radek," Rodney hunched over his laptop, "If we can figure out how this healing device works, we could help a lot of people. It could save lives."

"I know, Rodney," Radek sighed, "But we have barely been able to figure out how to initialize it, much less how to use it. We need a break. You need a break. Things will look different after a good night's sleep."

"That's a myth," Rodney huffed, "Besides, I'm not tired."

"That is a lie," Radek snorted, "You yawn every five minutes. It is very distracting."

"If you're so distracted," Rodney glared up at him, "then maybe you should just leave."

"I am leaving," Radek rolled his eyes, "I am trying to convince you to leave as well. To sleep in your bed so your back does not hurt tomorrow. You have been very irritable last two days."

"I have not," Rodney protested.

"Have too," Radek argued, "You yelled at Miko when she brought you dinner this evening."

"I yelled at Miko?" Rodney's scowl deepened.

"You were even ruder than normal," Radek nodded, "She cried."

"Miko cries all the time," Rodney flapped a hand at Radek, "At least three times a week. Everyone knows that."

"Rodney," Radek admonished, "That is not the point."

"All right, look," Rodney pointed to the screen in front of him, "I'm almost done with the translation for this section. As soon as I'm done, I'll be finished for the night."

"And you will go to bed?" Radek asked warily.

"Yes, I will go to bed," Rodney rolled his eyes, "I thought you were leaving. Why are you still here?"

"_Jednoho dne konečně stratím nervy a zavraždím tě_," Radek grumbled under his breath, "_Žádny soud ve vesmíru by mě za to neodsoudi_." [Czech: One day I will finally snap and murder you.] [Czech: No jury in the universe would convict me.]

"What are you muttering about?" Rodney questioned.

"Nothing," Radek turned to leave, "Good night, Dr. McKay."

Radek left the lab quietly, saying a polite farewell to the two guards at the door as he disappeared through the doorway.

Rodney kept working, silently reading through the translated sections of text. He made a quick adjustment to the translation program and went to pour himself another cup of coffee while he waited for it to update. He sat back down in his chair, setting the cup in an empty space on the desk before he started scrolling through the text again. He lost track of time as he read and when he felt a slight pressure on his thigh, he reached down absently to scratch a furry head. He picked up the coffee again, freezing with the cup halfway to his lips. He looked down to see Nemesis sitting next to him, her head resting on his thigh, happy purring coming from her mouth as she looked up at him.

"Uh, nice kitty," Rodney slowly withdrew his hand, "Good kitty."

Nemesis made an unhappy noise and huffed out a hot breath against his leg.

"You're not going to try to eat me today, are you?" Rodney questioned nervously.

Nemesis blinked her icy blue eyes at him, seeming to consider his question seriously before she growled lightly and butted her head against his thigh.

"You won't eat me if I keep petting you?" Rodney asked warily.

Nemesis chirruped and bumped Rodney's thigh again.

"I'm pretty sure this is considered extortion," Rodney resumed scratching her head as he sipped his coffee, "How did you even get in here anyway?"

Nemesis answered with a series of chirrups and growls.

"I have no idea what you just said," Rodney stared down at the giant cat skeptically, "But I'm pretty sure that was an answer to my question."

Nemesis rubbed her chin on Rodney's leg.

"Shouldn't you be asleep in Ronon's room?" Rodney wondered, "Or sneaking into the infirmary?"

Nemesis let out an unhappy whine and looked up at Rodney sadly.

"Carson kicked you out, didn't he?" Rodney snorted.

Nemesis huffed out another hot breath and pushed her head further up into Rodney's hand.

"I suppose you couldn't find anyone to pet you besides me," Rodney sighed and set the coffee cup down, "Everyone else is probably sleeping. Which I will be too, as soon as I can figure this stupid device out."

Rodney stopped petting Nemesis to reach across the table to pick up a wand-like object, a little less than the length of his forearm and the width of his thumb. It was a powder blue crystal, Rodney's hand not quite fully covering the end wrapped in smooth, dark silver naquadah.

"You see this?" Rodney held the wand down for Nemesis to sniff, "It's supposed to be for healing. I found it in the Ancient database. I can turn it on," the wand started glowing faintly in Rodney's hand, "but I don't know how to use it yet. And Carson won't let me try it on anyone until I can tell him exactly how it functions. And as you may or may not know, the Ancients weren't exactly good at leaving instruction manuals around. Or I suppose they were, but the directions are all in Ancient and they're more than a little obscure. I'd be able to figure out faster if I had real people to test it on. Theoretical work will only get me so far."

Nemesis sniffed the glowing wand again before she looked towards the guards at the door. She looked back to Rodney, then lifted a paw and extended her claws, pointing at the door.

"Did you just…?" Rodney's jaw dropped, "_No_! I don't want you to claw one of the guards so I can test the device on him."

Nemesis put the paw down and bared her teeth, snapping her jaw together once.

"I don't want you to bite anyone either," Rodney gaped at her, "What the hell has Red been teaching you?"

Nemesis chirped and touched her nose to the device.

"Yes, I know I said it needed to be tested," Rodney scolded as he set the wand back down on the desk, "But I definitely didn't mean it like that."

Nemesis gave Rodney another considering look before she stood, tilting her head down to tug gently on his pants leg by his ankle.

"What now?" Rodney eyed her carefully, "You want me to go with you?"

Nemesis chirruped in agreement and tugged on his pants again.

"Carson won't let me test it on Red," Rodney confessed quietly, "He's worried that the device could make her injury worse if it's used improperly."

Nemesis blinked at Rodney several times then stood on her hind legs, placing her front paws in Rodney's lap to press her nose against his laptop screen.

"Carson's asleep," Rodney shoved at Nemesis ineffectually, "And you weigh a ton. Get off me. You're getting nose prints on my screen."

Nemesis thumped one paw down on Rodney's leg and pressed her nose against his laptop again before she turned to stare at Rodney seriously. Rodney's eyes crossed as Nemesis blinked at him from less than an inch away from his nose.

"You don't think Red's sleeping too?" Rodney leaned back to put some distance between their faces and uncrossing his eyes, "I suppose she's pretty good at translating this crap. She might be able to make sense of it. All right, fine. Get down and we'll go see if she's awake."

Nemesis leaned closer to lick Rodney's cheek and hopped down from his lap as he started spluttering.

"Gah, gross. No kisses," Rodney wiped the saliva off his face, "Bad kitty."

Nemesis whapped Rodney's ankle with her tail as she turned around, walking over to stand by the door and wait for him.

"You have terrible breath," Rodney grumbled as he transferred all the relevant data to one of his tablets, "I don't know what they're feeding you, but you might want to consider a toothbrush…or whatever the oversized feline version of a toothbrush equivalent is," Rodney picked up the tablet and the slim wand and headed for the door, "If she's sleeping, we're not waking her up. Injured people need their rest. And don't think you're staying in my room tonight if she is sleeping."

Rodney kept talking as he walked towards the nearest transporter, Nemesis padding along quietly at his side.

"You may be able to intimidate me into petting you, but if you think you're sharing my bed, you've got another thing coming," Rodney warned, "And don't think I don't know that the whole 'Red helping with the translation idea' was so I'd help sneak you into the infirmary. I'm on to you."

Nemesis stepped into the transporter ahead of Rodney, turning around to look up at him as she chirruped smugly.

"Nobody likes a smartass," Rodney scowled down at her as the door slid shut behind them.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

Rodney peeked around the corner of the infirmary, keeping one hand on top of Nemesis to keep her in place behind him. He saw D resting in her hospital bed at a gentle incline, the large bandage covering most of her right shoulder and chest clear underneath the fabric of her white scrubs. Her right arm was held in place by a large black sling with a cushion attached to the underside, keeping the arm at straight angle away from her body. Her other hand had an IV attached to the back of it, the clear tubing stringing back up to a stand with a small gray machine and a bag of fluid draining into it. There was an obviously hand-made blanket thrown over her legs, the colors and fabric making Rodney think of the Athosians. D's hair was secured into a messy pile on top of her head and when she shifted positions uncomfortably, several of the burgundy strands came loose to fall around her face.

"It's rude to stare," D spoke without opening her eyes, dark circles underneath a stark contrast to her paled skin.

"I wasn't staring," Rodney came around the corner cautiously.

"I'm really not in the mood for any sympathy," a brief flicker of pain crossed D's expression but it was quickly wiped away, "So if that's why you're here – go away."

"That's not…" Rodney blinked down at Nemesis as she leaned against his leg, looking back up at D before he continued, "Your hell-beast broke into the new lab I found. She extorted me into petting her."

"Smart girl," D snorted as she finally opened her eyes to look at Rodney, "You look like shit."

"You're one to talk," Rodney frowned at her, "You look terrible."

"I'm injured," D scowled, "What's your excuse?"

"Seriously," Rodney moved forward to stand next to her bed, "When's the last time you slept?"

"I don't sleep in public places," D lifted her left arm and patted the mattress next to her, "_Hinauf_." [German: Up.]

Nemesis jumped up onto the bed, stretching out to lay against D's legs. She touched her nose to D's right hand gently, letting out a short whine before she rested her head over D's stomach.

"The nurses on duty tonight keep kicking her out," D started stroking her left hand over Nemesis' head, "Ronon said she could sleep in his room but she must've snuck out after he fell asleep."

"How could she sneak out?" Rodney wondered curiously.

"She figured out how to work the door sensors," D explained easily, "By watching other people do it I would assume. She swipes a paw over the crystals just like we do with hands."

"Right," Rodney rolled his eyes, "Of course the hell-beast knows how to open doors like a person."

"Told you the _mphakas_ were highly intelligent," D looked down at the items Rodney held tucked under his arm, "So are you here just to sneak Nem in or did you actually need something else?"

"Oh right," Rodney moved around to the left side of the bed and held out the wand for D to take, "I found this in the Ancient database. It's supposed to be some sort of healing device."

"Yeah," the wand lit up a brilliant sky blue in D's hand, "Carson told me about it."

"So he probably also told you he won't use it on you until I can figure it out," Rodney looked down to Nemesis, "Nemesis offered to claw up the guards outside the lab so I could test it, but I told her no. Which is probably something you should discuss with her at a later date because that type of behavior will definitely lead to trouble. I don't know what you've been teaching her, but going around mauling people is not okay. Then she suggested that I have you look at the section of the database that has the instructions – getting nose prints on my laptop screen that I fully intend to have you clean off, by the way – and see if you had any insights instead. And you seriously need to get her some kind of toothbrush or some mouthwash or something because she licked my face and I thought I was going to pass out from the smell."

D blinked up at Rodney several times, mouth hanging open slightly as she stared at him.

"What?" Rodney asked warily.

"Setting aside the fact that you apparently had an entire conversation with an animal you called a hell-beast less than a minute ago," D started calmly, "You do realize it's the middle of the night, right?"

"Yeah," Rodney shrugged, "But I told her we weren't waking you up if you were asleep."

"That wasn't really my point, Rodney," D shook her head with an amused smile, "I'll take a look, but I have two conditions."

"Conditions?" Rodney questioned.

"First," D handed him the wand back, "I need you to help me either take my IV out or override the timer on the morphine pump. Carson was being a jerk today and he made it so the machine automatically doses me every couple hours. I can't really move my right hand yet or I'd do it myself."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Rodney shifted on his feet, "I've never been shot in the chest before, but I can imagine it hurts."

"I'll be fine until the day shift starts or until someone comes to check on me," D assured him, "I won't be able to think straight if I'm doped up on painkillers."

"The second condition?" Rodney narrowed his eyes at her.

"Second," D smiled softly at him, "Help me adjust these pillows so you can lay here with me. If you're not going to sleep, at least lay down and be comfortable for a while. I can tell you slept at a desk last night."

"The three of us won't fit in one bed," Rodney insisted.

"Nemesis is going to move to the bed next to us," D tapped the cat on the head.

Nemesis hopped down from the bed with an annoyed huff, slapping Rodney on the ankle with her tail as she moved past him to jump onto another gurney.

"I don't want to accidently bump your arm or something," Rodney replied quietly, "I'll be fine in the chair."

"Those are my conditions, Rodney," D raised an eyebrow at him, "Take it or leave it."

"Fine," Rodney set the tablet and wand down in the chair next to the bed and reached for her IV, "But I'm telling Carson this was your idea. I'm not taking any of the blame."

"Deal," D agreed.

* * *

**Special thanks to reader Auguruj for fixing my Czech!**


	54. Resting

Rodney roused slightly when he heard movement near him, but the warm weight pressed along his front kept him in place. He draped an arm over the warmth, curling onto his side and snuggling closer to press his face into the softness as he felt hot breath blowing over his hair.

"Rodney, _what_ are you doing?" Carson questioned, his exasperation clear even to Rodney's sleep-addled brain.

"S'eepin'," Rodney grumbled, "G'way."

"I will not go away," Carson insisted, "Why are you sleeping here?"

"Tired," Rodney muttered, "Made a deal."

"What are you mumbling about, Rodney?" Carson set a hand on Rodney's shoulder and shook him, "Will you wake up and open your eyes? Rodney. Get up."

Rodney groaned unhappily as he opened his eyes. He was met with gray fur and realized he had his face pressed against Nemesis' neck. She chirruped in greeting and lifted her head to lick Rodney's cheek.

"No, bad kitty. What did I say about kisses?" Rodney scrubbed the side of his face with one hand as he shoved Nemesis' happy face away with the other, "And I'm pretty sure I told you that you weren't sleeping in my bed, hell-beast."

"You're not in your bed, Rodney," Carson set his hands on his hips and glared at Rodney, "You are in Dr. Vaughn's bed, in my infirmary, using a big bloody cat as a teddy bear. Where is D?"

"Huh?" Rodney finally sat up, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes to clear the sleep from his head, "She was right here…"

"_Was_ being the operative word," Carson gestured to the IV line, the needle dangling in a small bedpan and clear liquid pooling in the bottom, "What is this?"

"Uh," Rodney paused, looking down to the needle and back up to Carson, "It's an IV line?"

"I know what it is, Rodney. That is not what I meant," Carson frowned at him, "Why is it dripping into a basin instead of D's arm?"

"Well…we, uh," Rodney stammered, "I mean Red-she…you see, one of the conditions was making the morphine stop because she couldn't think straight but I didn't want to mess with the programming in the machine, just in case I accidently broke it permanently or set off an alarm or something, so I took the needle out, but it kept pumping the liquid through and we didn't want to make a mess on the floor so I got a bowl to let it drain into. It's not my fault! Red made me do it."

"And where is she now?" Carson asked patiently.

"She's…" Rodney looked around the room, "…gone?"

"Yes, I can see that," Carson rolled his eyes, "I don't suppose you know where she went or how long ago she left."

"No, I don't know where she went. I brought the database translation from the healing device here last night. Radek said it was about 2600 when he left and I stayed in the lab to work for a while after that so I probably got here around 2645-ish," Rodney looked down at his watch and winced, "I don't think I was awake for very long after I got here and it's nearly 0800 now, so Red could've disappeared any time in the last eight hours," Rodney stood from the bed and lifted his uniform jacket from the chair, "My tablet is gone. The device is too. She must've taken them with her, wherever she went."

"D is supposed to be recovering from a gunshot wound," Carson scolded, "I have enough trouble convincing her to rest without you coming in here and giving her work to do."

"She was awake when I got here," Rodney objected, "All I did was ask her to read through the translations."

"Aye and took her painkillers away," Carson pressed several buttons on the IV machine and reached down to snatch the bedpan from the floor.

"She told me to," Rodney insisted, "I told her it was a bad idea, but she said she would be okay until a nurse came to check on her this morning. She was doing fine before I fell asleep. I'm sure she's fine."

"I'm sure she thinks that," Carson shooed Nemesis off the bed and set the bedpan down in the vacated spot, "But since neither of you are medical professionals, I'd rather you leave that determination to me," Carson tapped his earpiece, "Dr. Beckett to Nurse Ko. It seems we had a jailbreak last night. Yes, she convinced Rodney to take out her IV. If I go to fetch her, can you have things ready for us when we return? Oh, I'd say about half an hour or so, depending on whether she's hiding in Elizabeth's room or somewhere else. Thank you, dear," Carson tapped the earpiece off and moved over to grab Rodney by the elbow, "Since you enabled her escape, you can help me find her."

"I didn't enable anything," Rodney protested as Carson led him towards the door, "It was Nemesis' idea to come here in the first place. I was going to go sleep in my bed."

"Oh, it was?" Carson released Rodney and turned to crook his finger at Nemesis, "Come on then. You can track her down for us."

Nemesis whined and padded over to bump her head against Carson's leg.

"It's too late for apologies. You're in trouble," Carson snagged Rodney's arm before he could slink away, "_Both_ of you. Let's go retrieve my wayward patient, shall we?"

Rodney and Nemesis hung their heads as Carson led them from the infirmary.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

When Carson, Rodney, and Nemesis finally located D almost twenty minutes later, she was slouched down in a chair, absently twirling the blue wand in her left hand. There were several laptops and tablets spread out over the table in front of her, as well as a mostly eaten tray of food and two empty water bottles. Her burgundy hair was gleaming wet, again piled haphazardly on top of her head with pieces falling loose to trail down her neck. She had changed from the plain white scrubs into a pair of loose black sweatpants and a blue button down shirt with a small checkered pattern, the sleeve on her left arm rolled up to the forearm, with a pair of thick black socks covering her feet. The black sling was in place over her shirt, the cushion holding her right arm away from her body, the sleeve of her blue shirt covering her up to the knuckles.

"There you are, Rodney," D set the wand down in an empty space on the table and turned to look up at Rodney and Carson, "Morning, Carson. I need to borrow someone's radio."

"What for?" Rodney wondered.

"Never mind what for," Carson stepped forward, "If you've been swimming in the bloody ocean with your wound, Dr. Vaughn, I swear I will strap you to an infirmary bed for the next two weeks."

"Of course I haven't been swimming," D rolled her eyes as she held out a hand, palm up and fingers wiggling impatiently, "Don't be silly. Radio, please."

"Here," Rodney slipped his radio off and held it out to D.

D slipped it over her ear before tapping it on, "Dr. Vaughn to Colonel Sheppard. Please report to lab M-11 immediately."

"Now that you're done with that," Carson scowled as D tapped the radio off, "If you weren't swimming, what were you doing to get your hair all wet?"

"Nothing bad," D assured him as she took Rodney's earpiece off.

"What are you doing in here?" Rodney moved around her to take in the mess covering the lab table, "What is all this?"

"Research," D handed the radio back to Rodney, "You look better. Sleep well?"

"I did until I woke up with a face full of fur and slobbery kisses," Rodney complained, shooting Nemesis a quick look as he hooked his radio back onto his ear, "I didn't think her breath could get any worse, but apparently I was wrong. Morning breath? Way worse."

"You were snuggling with Nem," D grinned down at Nemesis, "How adorable."

"We were _not_ snuggling," Rodney's cheeks flushed pink, "It was _not_ adorable."

"I asked you a question," Carson interjected.

"Don't pretend you didn't like it," D scratched underneath the cat's chin

"I didn't," Rodney crossed his arms over his chest.

"Excuse me," Carson tapped his foot impatiently.

"Did too," D's smile brightened as she looked up at Rodney, "It's okay, Dr. McKay. I won't tell anyone you enjoyed snuggling with the big, soft, cuddly kitty. Your reputation as grumpy hard-ass will remain intact."

"I most certainly did not enjoy it," Rodney pointed a finger in D's face, "Your hell-beast was trying to smother me to death. I was lucky to survive the night."

"Ignoring me will not make me go away, D," Carson set his hands on his hips with a huff, "Explain to me exactly how you came to have wet hair and different clothes since then last time I saw you. I'm fairly certain no one gave you permission to leave the infirmary, much less wander about on your own through the City."

"I asked Evan to borrow one of his shirts this morning," D finally turned to Carson to explain, "Teyla helped me shower, wash my hair thoroughly, and dress in something other than hospital scrubs. After that, Ronon helped me grab a breakfast tray and brought it down here for me, where I have been sitting down and doing nothing more strenuous than lifting a fork to my mouth while reading."

"You are supposed to be resting in the infirmary doing nothing, D," Carson frowned, "You nearly died less than a week ago – twice. Your body needs time to recover from that."

"My hair felt gross," D pouted up at Carson, "And I smelled like antiseptic. I couldn't take it any longer. I needed a shower, Carson."

"You aren't supposed to get your bandages wet," Carson scolded, "You should know better than that."

"Teyla and I made sure the wound was covered before we got in the shower," D informed him, "She re-bandaged it afterwards. It's fine, I promise."

"I'll be the judge of that," Carson reached forward to begin undoing the straps to her sling, "Let me have a look at you."

"Carson," D protested, trying to bat his hands away.

"Here or in the infirmary," Carson insisted, "Your choice."

"Jerk," D mumbled under her breath as Carson began to undo the top buttons on her shirt.

"You showered with Teyla?" Rodney's face flushed pink again.

"I couldn't reach all the spots I wanted cleaned by myself," D answered as Carson carefully pulled the collar and sleeve of the shirt down enough to expose the clean white bandages, "And Elizabeth was already in her first meeting of the day."

"Naked?" Rodney flushed a deeper pink.

"Yes," D tilted her head, "How else would we shower?"

"You were naked in the shower," Rodney repeated, his jaw dropping open, "With Teyla. At the same time. Naked."

"Who was naked?" John asked curiously as he came into the room, reaching down to scratch behind Nemesis' ear as he got closer, "Morning, Nemesis."

"Teyla and I were naked," D peered around Carson to look up at John, "She helped me shower and change this morning."

"Hold still, lass," Carson ordered gently.

"Really? Sounds fun. Always good to have someone else to get those hard to reach spots," John smirked as he waved a hand in front of Rodney's face, "I think you broke him, Vaughn."

"Did I?" D smiled wickedly, "I'll be a little disappointed if all it takes to break his brain is one little mental image of Teyla and I naked in the shower together."

"Rodney," John clicked his fingers several times and Rodney finally closed his mouth to look at John, "You all right there, buddy?"

"I need coffee," Rodney declared as he reached for the half empty coffee cup on the table, downing the rest of the cool liquid in one large gulp. He looked over to see Carson prodding the bruised area around the black-stitched line of angry red and slapped a hand over his eyes, taking several quick steps back as he spoke again, "Ack! That's disgusting. Go somewhere else to do that, Carson. You're contaminating the lab."

"This is supposed to be a medical lab. I'm not contaminating anything, Rodney," Carson inspected the wound carefully, "Looks okay. Does that hurt at all?"

"Only when you're poking it," D replied dryly.

"Cheeky lass," Carson reached down to slip two fingers into D's right hand, "Squeeze. Feeling in the hand?"

"I can feel that it's still there," D winced as she flexed her fingers, not quite able to close them around Carson's fingers, "But it still causes shooting pain if I try to grip anything."

"That's normal. I'll check the rest when we get back to the infirmary," Carson started putting the bandages back in place, "It's covered now, Rodney. You can uncover your eyes."

"You sure?" Rodney peeked through his fingers.

"It's just a gunshot wound," D rolled her eyes, "Don't be such a baby."

"Idiot," Rodney scowled at D as Carson buttoned her shirt back in place.

"Jackass," D grinned up at Rodney while Carson re-attached the sling.

"Well, this has been an interesting conversation," John drawled, "But does anyone want to tell me why I was called down here so urgently?"

"Oh, right," D pointed towards the blue wand on the table, "Carson, pick that up."

"You figured it out?" Rodney rushed forward to set his empty cup on the table, "Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"I got side-tracked by your adorable cat-cuddling," D waved a hand at John, "Take off your jacket so Carson can get at your wounds."

"If it's meant for healing," John slipped his jacket off and handed it to Rodney, "Shouldn't we be using it on your shoulder?"

"Nope," D shook her head, "The wand is part of a large machine. From what I read, there are two dozen or so detachable wands like this. The wands themselves are basically used for triage. It takes a scan of the patient and reattaches to what sounds like something similar to an MRI machine. The machine then uses the medical scan to start repairing the damage to the patient."

"Did you find this healing machine anywhere?" Carson wondered, "That sort of thing could be incredibly helpful in trauma situations."

"I found several references to its construction," D glanced back to one of the laptops, "But I haven't been able to figure out where they were building it. I'm not entirely sure it was being built in the City."

"How is that helpful then?" Rodney frowned.

"The wand can also be used for minor healing," D smiled brightly, "Scrapes, bruises, things like that. It won't do any good on my shoulder, but theoretically, it should heal the puncture wounds on Sheppard's arm with no problem."

"Can we not call it a wand?" John asked wryly, "I feel like I'm in a Harry Potter novel."

"How does it work?" Carson looked over the wand in his hand.

"You wave the magic wand over his wounds," D smirked at John, "And imagine what you want it to do."

"That's it?" Carson raised an eyebrow.

"You could say abracadabra if you wanted," D shrugged her uninjured shoulder.

"Vaughn," John warned.

"You people are no fun," D sighed heavily, "The device is made to be used by someone with medical knowledge. Picture in your mind how the wound is supposed to be healed and move the device over the affected area. The crystal in the wand then stimulates rapid cell growth according to the mental image. There were several comments from the researchers about how the device was physically draining for the user when operated in this manner, so be prepared."

"Colonel?" Carson looked over to him.

"Just don't say the magic words," John held his right arm out.

Carson concentrated on the wand in his hand until it lit up a bright blue. He reached for John's arm and started passing the device over the four small puncture wounds. They watched as the skin began to knit itself together and after a minute, there were only faint, white scars where the wounds had been.

"Amazing," Carson swayed on his feet.

"Grab him," D ordered gently.

John and Rodney reached for Carson as he began to tip sideways and D vacated her chair. They guided Carson down until he was sitting and D took the wand from his hand gently. Nemesis padded closer silently, laying her head in Carson's lap with a concerned whine.

"I can see why it can't be used for major wounds," D set the wand on the table and grabbed a leftover piece of bacon, "Here. Eat this. Then drink the rest of the orange juice."

"Thank you, dear," Carson broke a small piece of the bacon off to give to Nemesis before munching on the rest of it himself. After he was finished, D offered the half-full glass of orange juice. Carson took it from her hand, greedily gulping down the liquid before he handed back the empty glass.

"I don't see how this is useful," Rodney scowled, "If it physically drains the doctor using it, what good is it going to do?"

"It's supposed to get easier with practice," D informed them, "And you have to remember, the Ancients had enough medical personnel to have different people doing triage and treating patients. I emailed a report to Carson, Rodney, and Elizabeth. You can take a look at the data later. Better?"

"Aye," Carson agreed, "We'd better head back to the infirmary. You're due for another round of antibiotics and painkillers. And I'd like to take a closer look at the stitches on your back since you've been moving around so much."

"Carson," D pouted, "I just found you a cool new toy. Doesn't that earn me a short furlough?"

"It does not," Carson stood, "Back to the infirmary with you. If you come back without any more complaints, I won't tell Elizabeth you escaped in the middle of the night."

"No fun at all," D sighed and headed towards the door.


	55. Taking Care

**WARNING! There is a reference in this chapter to sexual assault/rape. Please don't read if it will upset you.**

* * *

John set his tray down on the table next to Rodney's, sliding into the chair across from Ronon and Teyla. There was an extra tray still mostly full of food and an empty chair between them. Instead of eating with his normal vigor, Ronon was staring towards one of the doorways, occasionally stabbing at his food with his fork. When he let out a low growl and stabbed a piece of fruit extra viciously, John eyed him warily.

"What's the matter with him?" John asked Teyla cautiously.

"Ronon is…" Teyla paused to glance at the fuming man next to her, "…He is somewhat anxious this morning."

"Any particular reason?" John unwrapped his silverware, "Or did he just wake up cranky today?"

"Some guy came over," Rodney pointed his fork to where Ronon was staring, "Asked to speak to Red privately. Conan's been glaring at them since she agreed."

"Vaughn's out of the infirmary finally?" John followed the fork to where Rodney was pointing, "I don't recognize him. One of the Athosians?"

"Not exactly," Teyla shook her head, "That is Matriarch Otelia's son, Vathek."

"Oh," John looked back to Teyla, "Isn't he the one that…?"

Ronon growled louder and stabbed his fruit again, smashing it into his tray and sending bits spraying across the table.

"Take it easy, Chewie," John flicked a stray drop of juice from his face, "I'm sure he's not stupid enough to try anything in this very public setting, especially after what happened the last time. Vaughn's proven she can handle herself if he is really that dumb."

"Well, maybe not," Rodney shrugged and went back to eating, "She did spend the last two weeks mostly in the infirmary and she's still got one arm in a sling."

Ronon smashed another fruit onto his tray.

"_Rodney_," Teyla cautioned.

"Which still leaves her with one good arm," Rodney added quickly, "I'm sure she can still kick his ass if need be."

"What's he doing in the City anyway?" John wondered as he started eating.

"I believe we are about to find out," Teyla raised her eyebrow as D made her way back to the table.

D was carrying a tan leather-wrapped bundle and a small frown creased her forehead. She sat down in the empty chair next to Ronon and pushed her tray out of the way to set the bundle on the table.

"What did _he_ want?" Ronon rumbled.

"To apologize for his transgressions, apparently," D pulled the string loose from the bundle, "And to give me this."

"What is it?" Rodney asked curiously.

D unfolded the leather, moving it to the side to expose a set of neatly folded garments. She lifted the first one gently, the thin gossamer fabric in the same shade of pale gray as her eyes sliding through her fingers easily. D spread the garment open in front of her, revealing a long tunic with a rounded collar and loose, flowing sleeves. There were delicate, twisting thorned vines sewn around the collar and cuffs, as well as along the bottom of the tunic, the thread colored a shimmery crimson.

"_Oh_," Teyla exclaimed reverently, "It is beautiful, D."

"That creepy guy made this?" Rodney eyed the tunic skeptically, "What for?"

"As recompense," D answered quietly, "for what his people consider a serious offense. I don't have a farm, so he made this."

"Farm? What farm?" Rodney wondered, "What are you talking about?"

"The Pulooy people are mainly farmers," Teyla explained, "The crime of sexual assault or rape, attempted or otherwise, carries what they consider to be a severe sentence. The offender labors for the victim's family for two hundred cycles."

"Eighteen years," D translated automatically, running the index finger of her left hand over the vines at the collar, "Each cycle on M59-693 is a little over a month on Earth, around thirty-two days. There are ten cycles in each rotation of the planet around the sun, three hundred twenty-nine days. Two hundred cycles is approximately six thousand five hundred eighty days or a little over eighteen years. Enough time for any child born of the rape to grow to maturity. The offender is forced to pay penance for a child's lifetime, since their actions could have resulted in one. They are little more than a slave for the victim's family, receiving only basic food and shelter and forced to work from sunrise to sunset. They are not allowed to speak directly to, touch in any manner, or make any eye contact with their victim, for any reason. No other crime among the Pulooy carries such a weighty sentence and because of this, it happens rarely – usually only once or twice a generation, if at all."

"Sounds like he got off pretty easy," John replied carefully, "Besides the broken arm."

"And the naquadah knife," Rodney reminded him, "Which led to the small mining operation on that planet."

"On Sateda," Ronon shoved a forkful of food into his mouth, "We castrate men like him. Mark their crime on them forever."

"I've always just slit their throats," D stated absently, still running her finger over the stitching, "Arterial spray can cause a bit of a mess, but it's the only way to ensure they can never do it again."

Rodney's fork clattered to the table and John froze in the act of reaching for his water. Teyla raised an eyebrow as she stared at D, but Ronon only snorted in amusement before he continued to eat.

"_What_ did you just say?" Rodney gaped at D.

"Hmmm?" D looked up to see the three of them watching her.

"Arterial spray?" John questioned warily.

"What?" D's hand stilled, "Who said anything about arterial spray?"

"You did," Rodney continued to stare at D, "Just now."

"No, I didn't," D argued calmly.

"Yes," Rodney insisted, "Yes, you did."

"No," D repeated evenly, "I didn't. You must have heard me incorrectly."

"All four of us heard you wrong?" John narrowed his eyes.

"It seems that way," D turned to give John a cool stare, "I apologize. I'll try to speak more clearly in the future."

"Right," John drawled as he resumed eating quietly, "Lots of hearing problems here in the City."

"Teyla, would you mind re-folding this for me?" D picked up the shirt with her left hand, "I've regained a lot of movement in my right shoulder, but I'm still having trouble gripping things."

"Of course," Teyla accepted the shirt.

"What else could you have possibly said?" Rodney asked incredulously, "What other combination of words sounds like 'slit their throats' and 'arterial spray'?"

"These are actually quite nice," D lifted the second garment, pants several shades of gray darker than the shirt, "The fabric is heavier – sturdier. Do you know if they are made from the same crop?"

"I believe so, yes," Teyla nodded as she folded the tunic carefully, "My understanding is the fine fabrics, such as this shirt, are made by processing the flower of the plant while the stalk is used for heavy material, like the pants you hold. The root of the plant is the part used for food. They call the plant _bulvė_ and it seems to be somewhat similar to the vegetable Dr. Parrish calls a turnip. It is quite tasteful and appears to have many essential nutrients. The Pulooy have become quite adept at using every part of the plants they harvest."

"Seriously?" Rodney huffed, "You're going to talk about alien turnips right now?"

"I take it their crops are growing well on the mainland then," D ignored Rodney as she accepted the folded shirt from Teyla.

"Very well," Teyla nodded, "My people and Otelia's have become great friends. They have shared many of their farming techniques with us and us many hunting techniques with them. With all the additional labor, both groups have been able to increase their crop yields five-fold. I will be escorting several scientists to the mainland later this week to discuss food preservation techniques. If things continue this way, we may be able to supplement Atlantis' emergency food stores with the excess crops."

"That's fantastic news," D smiled warmly, "It would be nice to have something other than MREs available in case of emergencies."

"That's very mature," Rodney rolled his eyes as he finally resumed his meal, "Just ignore me like I'm not even here. That'll make me go away for sure."

"I'm not ignoring you, Dr. McKay," D's smile faded as she pulled the leather back around the clothes. She picked up the bundle as she stood, "If you'll all excuse me, I need to drop these off in my quarters before I get to work."

"You did not finish your breakfast," Teyla frowned at D's mostly full tray.

"I spent more time than I planned talking with Vathek," D shrugged her uninjured shoulder, "I have reports to look over before Elizabeth's meetings today."

"One of the conditions of your release from the infirmary," Teyla spoke calmly, "was that you eat a full meal with either Ronon or myself three times a day, as well as two smaller snacks with Elizabeth or Marie."

"I'll be fine, Teyla," D smiled politely, "I have two weeks' worth of paperwork to catch up on."

"Dr. Beckett informed me," Teyla continued evenly, "that your body requires more energy than most when you are injured. That you must consume additional…calories, I believe he called them? He gave explicit instructions as to your care."

"Dr. Beckett is a nag," D held the polite smile firmly in place, "And he has a tendency to worry over things that are not important."

"Your health is unimportant?" Teyla raised an eyebrow.

"Skipping part of one meal will not affect my healing," D started to move away, "And if no one here tells Carson, he'll never know. I'll see you at lunch, Teyla."

"Ronon," Teyla prompted.

Ronon pushed his chair back and stood. He plucked the bundle from D's hand and gripped her left arm at the elbow, guiding her back to her chair. He dropped her clothes onto the table next to his tray and pushed her tray back in front of her as they both sat.

"Eat," Ronon finally released D's arm.

D only glared at Teyla as she and Ronon resumed eating.

"The sooner you finish," Teyla didn't return D's hard stare, "the sooner you will be able to leave."

"Eat, _kuahine_," Ronon added.

"Rodney," D's tone was sickly sweet as she picked up her fork, "Why don't you tell us about the progress you've made with your MTI research while I finish my breakfast? It's a fascinating subject and I'm sure everyone here would love to hear about it."

"Really?" Rodney's whole face lit up with excitement, "This is perfect timing, really, because I had a huge breakthrough just the other day."

John groaned quietly as Rodney started rambling at top speed, barely pausing long enough to shove food into his mouth. D took miniscule bites of her food as she listened, chewing each one thoroughly before she swallowed. Every time Rodney showed signs of slowing down, D would ask him a pertinent question and Rodney got excited all over again.

After only fifteen minutes of Rodney's explanation, D's tray was still half full and Ronon had resorted to openly glaring at D. Teyla seemed to remain calm, but John could see the line of her jaw tightening every time D asked a question to renew Rodney's rambling.

"Perhaps you are correct, Dr. Vaughn," Teyla announced tightly as Rodney finally paused long enough to take a drink, "I believe you have eaten enough to satisfy Dr. Beckett's requirements."

"Are you sure, Teyla?" D blinked innocently, eyes wide as she looked down at her tray, "There's still a lot of food on my tray. I wouldn't want to go against my doctor's orders."

Ronon picked up her tray and scraped the remaining food onto his own, slamming the empty tray back down in front of D.

"You're done," Ronon declared firmly.

"I will take care of your empty tray," Teyla nodded, "And I will meet you and Elizabeth at 1230 in her office to take you both to lunch."

"If you insist," D smiled smugly as she stood, "I'll stop by your lab when I'm finished for the day, Rodney, and we can finish our discussion of the MTI."

"Don't bring your hell-beast this time," Rodney pointed his fork at her, "She gets hair in my equipment."

"She does not," D rolled her eyes as she turned to Ronon, "Would you mind taking Nemesis for some exercise sometime today? I haven't really been able to do much with her the past two weeks and I think she's getting bored."

"Sure," Ronon tugged D down by a light grip on her shirt to press a kiss to her temple, "Have her find me after dinner."

"Thanks, _kunane_," D smiled warmly as Ronon released her and turned to John, "Colonel, I believe Major Lorne was looking for you this morning. He said something about wanting to adjust the security patrols and something about having you sign a bunch of things."

John winced at the mention of paperwork, "I'll find him later."

"Let me help you with that, Colonel," D smirked and reached up to tap her earpiece, "Dr. Vaughn to Major Lorne. I was able to locate the Colonel for you. He's eating breakfast now, so if you hide his Gameboy and send Cor to fetch him in about five minutes, you should be able to finish that paperwork this morning. You're welcome, Evan."

John pouted at D as she tapped her earpiece off.

"Now that was just mean," John protested, "I didn't even do anything."

"They're your team, Sheppard," D accepted the bundle of clothes from Ronon, "You're responsible for them."

"That's not fair," John complained, "What do you expect me to do?"

"I expect you to do paperwork," D called over her shoulder as she left.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Did you take your pills?" Elizabeth spoke without looking up from her laptop.

"Morning, Elizabeth," D moved in front of Elizabeth's desk, "How are you today? Me, I'm fine. Thank you ever so much for asking."

"Good morning, D," Elizabeth smiled as she looked up from her work, "Did you take your pills this morning?"

"No," D rolled her eyes, "But I did stop by the infirmary to let Marie give me a shot of completely unnecessary antibiotics and change my bandages."

"Carson didn't make you take any painkillers?" Elizabeth questioned.

"I may have waited until Carson was busy with something else before I went," D admitted, "And Marie might be under the impression that I had already taken the pills."

"The mistaken impression?" Elizabeth inquired.

"Yes, but I'm fine, Elizabeth," D insisted, "Really. It doesn't hurt that badly."

"That's all right," Elizabeth rolled her chair over to a filing cabinet and opened the drawer, "Carson gave me a back-up supply to make sure you took them."

Elizabeth pulled out a small medicine bottle and removed the cap to shake two pills out. She recapped the bottle, dropped it back into the drawer, and pushed the drawer closed as she stood.

"Here," Elizabeth held out the pills to D.

"I don't want to take these," D protested as she accepted the pills.

"Here," Elizabeth grabbed her half-full coffee cup from her desk, "It's got cream in it, but I'm sure you can manage."

"Elizabeth," D pouted.

"You can take the pills," Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "Or I can go with you to the infirmary and watch Carson give you a shot. Your choice."

D sighed heavily as she dropped the pills into her mouth. She took the cup from Elizabeth and took a long swallow before handing it back.

"Do I need to check under your tongue?" Elizabeth asked evenly.

D scowled as she swallowed again.

"Thank you," Elizabeth set her cup back down and picked up a tablet.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," D snatched the tablet from Elizabeth, "I don't need a bunch of baby-sitters."

"If you say so," Elizabeth smiled brightly, "The next meeting is in fifteen minutes. Will that be enough time for you to get caught up?"

"Despite the best efforts of some of the senior members of this expedition," D grumbled, "I have managed to stay updated the last two weeks."

"I'll take that as a yes," Elizabeth laughed as she went back around to sit in her chair, "Remind me to give you another round of painkillers when Teyla comes to get you for lunch."

"I don't need-" D started.

"Remind me," Elizabeth ordered as she went back to typing.

"Yes, ma'am," D huffed, turning on her heel to stomp out of Elizabeth's office.


	56. Timing

"Will you just give me the marker, jackass?" D tried unsuccessfully to grab the marker from Rodney's hand.

"No," Rodney extended his arm to hold the marker high in the air above his head, "You can't have it."

"I can't read your chicken scratch," D protested, moving closer to reach for the marker again, "Give it."

"There's nothing wrong with my handwriting," Rodney insisted, twisting out of the way, "You just want the marker so you can change the last equation."

"It needs changing," D huffed impatiently, "Give me the marker."

"I will not," Rodney kept the marker out of reach, "It doesn't need fixing."

"I didn't say fixing," D reached for Rodney's sleeve to pull his arm down, "I said changing."

"Changing," Rodney slapped D's hand away, "Fixing. Whatever. It's right like it is. Leave it alone."

"I can make it more right," D insisted.

"You can't make something _more right_, idiot," Rodney rolled his eyes, "What kind of language expert are you? It's either right or wrong."

"Rodney," D narrowed her eyes, "Give me the damn marker before I decide to take it from you."

"Because you're doing such a great job of that so far," Rodney scoffed.

"McKay," D warned.

"Nope," Rodney grinned smugly, "You might as well just give up. You can't reach and I'm not giving it to you."

"Fine," D smiled politely and reached up to flick Rodney in the nose.

"Did-did you…just…" Rodney spluttered, "Did you just _flick _me?"

"Yes," D flicked him again, "Give me the marker."

"Stop that," Rodney commanded furiously.

"Nope," D tried flick him a third time but Rodney jerked his head back.

"I said quit," Rodney smacked her hand away as she reached up again.

"I can do this all night, Rodney," D informed him seriously, "It'd be better for you if you just gave me the marker now."

"Fine, you want the marker?" Rodney thrust the marker forward quickly, making a black streak across the bridge of D's nose, "There. You got the marker."

"Did you just write on my face?" D lifted her left hand to swipe it over her nose, eyeing the small smear of ink left on the back of her hand before she looked back up to Rodney, "You wrote on me."

"You flicked me first," Rodney took a wary step back, raising his hands in front of him, "Don't hit me."

"Oh, I'm not going to hit you, Rodney," D took an intimidating step forward, "I have a much more interesting punishment in mind."

When John walked into Rodney's lab five minutes later, he heard Rodney squealing and yelping in protest and his desk jostled with a loud thump. John moved around the desk quickly to see D sitting on Rodney's chest, his arms pinned in place at his sides by her thighs. Rodney was kicking his legs in a futile effort to free himself, shaking his head back and forth trying to avoid D as she drew careful lines on Rodney's face with a dry erase marker.

"Vaughn," John wrapped his arms around D's middle and hauled her off of Rodney, "Knock it off!"

"I'm not done yet," D protested loudly as John set her down several feet away from Rodney.

"Sheppard," relief came over Rodney's face as he scrambled to his feet, "Thank god. I thought she was going to kill me."

"If I was trying to kill you, Rodney," D shook the marker at him menacingly, "You'd already be dead."

"You were sitting on me," Rodney waved his hands through the air wildly, "I couldn't breathe. I almost suffocated!"

"I wasn't even putting my full weight on you," D argued hotly, "And you certainly had enough breath to wail like a freaking banshee."

"I wasn't wailing," Rodney glared at her furiously, "I was trying to call for help while you were viciously attacking me."

"All right, that's enough," John stepped in between them, "What the hell is going on here?"

"She started it," Rodney pointed an accusatory finger at D.

"He started it," D insisted at the same time.

"I don't care who started it," John held his hands up to silence them.

"But he-" D objected.

"Vaughn," John cautioned, "You already have one bullet hole in you. Do you really want me to give you another?"

D closed her mouth with an annoyed huff.

"Now, which one of you wants to tell me what…" John trailed off as he saw the black streak across Ds nose. He turned to Rodney, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the designs covering his face, "Rodney…there's a donkey on your cheek."

"What?" Rodney rushed over to the lamp on his desk, tilting the shiny silver to look at his reflection, "Damn it!"

"I haven't finished the donkey yet," D smiled sweetly, "He still needs ears."

"You wrote jackass on my forehead!" Rodney's face flushed an irritated red as he turned back to D.

"I don't see why you're making such a big deal about it," D scoffed, "It's not like it's permanent marker."

"You wrote jackass on my _forehead_!" Rodney repeated angrily, "And you drew an earless donkey _on my cheek_!"

"Because you are a jackass," D declared irately, "And you drew on me first!"

"Because you flicked me," Rodney yelled, holding up two fingers, "Twice. In the nose! _Twice_!"

"You wouldn't give me the marker!" D shouted back.

"You were trying to change my equations!" Rodney bellowed.

"Children," John interrupted.

Rodney and D went back to fuming at each other silently. John scrubbed his hand down his face and took a deep, calming breath.

"Aren't there more markers here somewhere?" John gestured around the room, "Why are you two fighting over that one?"

"There's only one black one left and we're too busy to go steal one from someone else's lab," Rodney snapped, "And it's probably out of ink now."

"You're the one who insists on doing everything in the same color," D countered, "I have no issues switching colors in the middle of a line."

"You can't just-" Rodney threw his hands up.

"Stop," John ordered. He sighed resignedly and held out his hand to D, "Give me the marker, Vaughn."

D slapped the marker into his palm as she continued to glare at Rodney.

"Where's the lid?" John asked evenly.

Rodney withdrew the lid from his pants pocket and thrust it towards John.

John recapped the marker and shoved it into his own pocket.

"You two can have this back when you learn to get along," John pronounced.

"But we have to finish this," Rodney pointed towards the half-filled whiteboard at the center of the room.

"Will anyone die if it's not finished tonight?" John questioned.

"Well, no," Rodney admitted, "But-"

"No buts, Rodney," John turned to face D again, "Aren't you supposed to be in a sling?"

"You're not my doctor," D lifted her chin.

"That's a yes," John rolled his eyes, "Where is it?"

"I think it fell off my desk during the scuffle," Rodney grumbled, "It probably got shoved underneath."

"Why was it on the desk in the first place?" John asked patiently.

"She made me help her take it off," Rodney insisted quickly, "I told her she should keep it on, but she doesn't listen to me."

"Snitch," D shot Rodney a fierce glare.

John turned around and stooped to pick up the discarded sling from under Rodney's desk.

"Got rid of the cushion?" John handed the sling to D.

"I tried to convince Carson to get rid of the whole thing," D huffed as she accepted the sling, "But he didn't go for it. He gave me this instead and told me I could take it off for two hours every day. I'm supposed to start physical therapy tomorrow."

"It's only been three weeks since you were shot," Rodney frowned at D, "Should you really be starting therapy already?"

"I heal quickly," D replied easily as she looked up at John, "If I put the stupid sling back on, can I have the marker back so I can change the last equation we were working on?"

"There's nothing wrong with-" Rodney started.

"No," John shook his head firmly, "You're both done for the night. It's 2530 already. You can finish it tomorrow."

"Your team is on stand-by tomorrow," D reminded them, "From 0630 to 2630."

"Which is why I stopped by to make sure Rodney was going to bed," John agreed.

"Changing it will only take a second," D stuck her lower lip out, "and it's important."

"It doesn't need fixing!" Rodney insisted.

"What are you working on?" John questioned.

Rodney and D exchanged a glance, but neither of them responded.

"What is it?" John narrowed his eyes at the two of them.

"We'retryingtodecidewhichjelloflavorisbest," Rodney's quiet words came out in a rush.

"Could you repeat that?" John spoke cautiously.

"Dr. McKay and I were attempting to create a mathematical formula," D stated calmly, "using variables such as color, temperature, and constancy to determine a ranking system for the various jello flavors available here within the City."

"She thinks that green jello is better than blue," Rodney's voice was filled with astonishment, "Can you believe that? _Green_. She's crazy."

"The green _is_ better," D whirled to face Rodney again, "It doesn't get runny as fast as the other flavors."

"You two are fighting over jello?" John asked incredulously.

"Uh," Rodney's cheeks pinked.

"Kind of?" D blinked up at John, "It started out as a discussion about brain chemistry but we got a little side-tracked."

"Right," Rodney nodded, "Side-tracked."

"I'm having Beckett do a full work-up on both of you," John gripped D's left elbow and Rodney's right, leading them out of the room, "Including a drug test."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

Elizabeth scratched Nemesis' head as she and D waited for the conference room to clear.

"You do realize," D spoke carefully, "that when Lt. Young says he 'took part in a local peace ceremony' he really means his team smoked a bowl of _kertiten _with the village elders, right?"

"I figured as much," Elizabeth agreed easily, "I could still smell it on them."

"I'm pretty sure they were still high," D looked towards the doorway thoughtfully, "You might want to consider asking Teyla to write a report about the effects so personnel know what to expect when it's offered. Actually, Halling might be a better choice. I'm fairly sure he's the main supplier of the leaf among the Athosians. If he agrees, we could have him sit down with a member of the medical staff to write a simple memo to distribute amongst the gate teams."

"You're not going to recommend prohibiting it completely?" Elizabeth wondered.

"AR-6 made it through the entire debrief," D shrugged, "Other than the peculiar smell and the dilated pupils, I didn't really notice any other effects. _Kertiten_ seems to be a fairly common trade item in Pegasus and this isn't the first planet that incorporates it into some sort of ceremony. As long as there are no serious long-term effects from use, I don't see that forbidding the drug will accomplish anything. A few regulations might be in order though."

"I'll speak with Teyla in the morning," Elizabeth decided as she stood, "How long until Dr. Morrison's team is due to check in?"

"Not for another twenty minutes," D stood as she gathered hers and Elizabeth's tablets from the table.

"Let me do that," Elizabeth took the tablets from D.

"Elizabeth," D protested, "I am perfectly capable of-"

"Carson said you start physical therapy today," Elizabeth interrupted, "What's the plan for that?"

"I'll start with a few simple tests," D followed Elizabeth from the room slowly, Nemesis padding along next to them, "to assess the current range of motion and muscle tone, then proceed to exercises designed to strengthen any weak areas."

"And how is the healing?" Elizabeth asked softly, "Honestly."

"Broken ribs have healed completely," D answered quietly, "My skin has begun forming scar tissue. My lung and the surrounding tissues are well on their way to forming internal scar tissue, but it'll be at least another week before that happens. Four weeks from now there won't be an external scar anymore and another two weeks after that the internal scar tissue will be gone as well. It'll be like it never happened."

"Like it never happened," Elizabeth stopped at the top of stairs in the gate room, "Have you run into any…issues?"

"I assume you mean any questions," D raised an eyebrow, "about how I'm able to heal so quickly and completely from what should have been a fatal wound."

"Yes," Elizabeth shifted closer to D, "Any problems?"

"Since you talked to Caldwell and he agreed to keep quiet about everything, not really," D shook her head, "Carson made a big deal in front of Teyla about me requiring more energy to heal than most other people."

"Hence the feeding schedule," Elizabeth nodded, "and strict meal planning."

"Exactly," D rolled her eyes, "I don't think I've ever eaten so many calories in such a short time frame before. I suppose it helped, but it wasn't really necessary."

"Anything else?" Elizabeth questioned.

"A few strange looks from Marie because of the rapid healing," D answered easily, "But I'm pretty sure she suspects that I've been getting someone to use one of the healing wands on me, healing a little at a time."

"I thought Carson determined that using the wand on you would cause problems," Elizabeth said cautiously, "You haven't been using it anyway, have you?"

"No, I haven't, but I'm fine with letting her think that," D assured her, "I agree with Carson. Any artificial acceleration of the healing on a cellular level, like the wands, would actually cause me not to heal completely. I'd end up with permanent damage wherever it occurred."

"So if you _did _try to use it on your wound…" Elizabeth prompted.

"I predicted it would only cut three weeks off my recovery time," D clarified, "But I'd end up with both internal and external scar tissue. My lung capacity would never be the same and I'd lose probably about ten degrees of motion in my shoulder. I'd rather wait the extra three weeks for my body to heal itself properly."

"I understand," Elizabeth nodded, "I'd probably do the same."

"Elizabeth," D studied her face carefully, "My injury was not your fault."

"I know," Elizabeth agreed quickly.

"Do you, ma'am?" D asked gently, "I will heal."

"You wouldn't have to heal if it wasn't for me," Elizabeth looked down at Nemesis as the cat leaned up against her leg, "Dr. Beckett said if you were anyone else, you wouldn't have survived."

"Three minutes and fifty-two seconds," D stated evenly.

"What?" Elizabeth looked at D curiously.

"It took me three minutes and fifty-two seconds to drown in my own blood," D held Elizabeth's stare as the other woman blanched, "My heart stopped for one minute and twelve seconds. It took two minutes and eleven seconds to transport me to the surgical suite. I was in surgery for twenty-four minutes and eight seconds when my heart stopped again, this time for three minutes and six seconds. I was in surgery for another seven hours, nine minutes, and fourteen seconds after that. I was kept under sedation for twenty hours and thirty-seven seconds before I woke up."

"D, I didn't…" Elizabeth started hesitantly.

"It will take me six more weeks to heal completely," D paused, her quiet voice unwavering when she continued, "It took me exactly four seconds to determine that you were not to blame for my injuries, ma'am. And I will continue to remind you of that fact for whatever length of time it takes for you to believe it completely."

"That may take a while," Elizabeth admitted.

"As long as it takes, ma'am," D repeated firmly.

"Shouldn't I be the one reassuring you?" Elizabeth asked wryly, "After all, _I_ shot _you_, not the other way around."

"I suppose the whole situation can be chalked up to one too many lessons at the shooting range," D shrugged, "Guess I shouldn't have taught you so well."

"I guess not," Elizabeth smiled softly.

"Unscheduled off-world activation," Chuck shouted as the symbols on the gate began lighting up.

"Dr. Morrison's team?" Elizabeth checked her watch.

"Too early," D shook her head, "Morrison's almost as strict about schedules as I am."

"Guess we'd better go see who's calling then," Elizabeth turned to head up the control room.


	57. Investigations

"A ZedPM is a ZedPM," Rodney gestured to the frozen image on the screen, "Who cares where it comes from?"

"We've already got one," John drawled.

"Yes, _one_," Rodney snarked.

"Two is better than one," Ronon leaned back in his chair to look at John.

"And three is better than two," Rodney agreed swiftly, "Look, we all know that eventually the Wraith are going to discover we're still here. Having more power means that we have more options. We might even be able to light up the engines and get the City to fly."

Everyone in the room turned to look at Rodney curiously.

"Really?" John asked hopefully.

"…No," Rodney admitted, "But we still need it."

"Well, flying City or not," Elizabeth turned back to the table, "I think we should consider this."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," John sat forward, "but aren't you the one the Genii threatened to kill on two separate occasions?"

"That won't be a problem this time, Colonel," D declared easily.

"He says he alone and he's willing to be searched," Elizabeth looked to D, "If we bring him here, will you be able to read him?"

"It make take me a couple minutes to establish a baseline," D said thoughtfully, "Depending on what sort of training he's received. From what I've read in your reports, the strike force that invaded the City seemed to be a sort of special ops group. And Radim seemed to be some sort of Lieutenant for Commander Kolya. I assume he didn't earn that position by being completely straightforward."

"But you can do it?" Elizabeth questioned.

"He's still human, ma'am," D answered wryly, "It's only a matter of time."

"What does that even mean?" Rodney rolled his eyes.

"That means yes," Elizabeth smiled warmly.

"Wait a minute," John protested, "We should be dealing with Lorne and his team – find out what happened to them."

"Teyla and Ronon will continue with that investigation," Elizabeth decided, "Both you and Dr. Vaughn can join them once you finish up with this."

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head.

"All right," John agreed reluctantly, "Get a MALP ready with a life-signs detector. I'm not sending my men in there blind."

"It's already being moved into the gate room, Colonel," D informed him, "A full security team is on standby, including two men with Special Ops backgrounds, and the twins are waiting in the locker room with the team."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "You were so sure I'd agree?"

"It's a ZPM, ma'am," D snorted, "I assumed even if you initially decided not to meet with Mr. Radim, Rodney would pester you until you agreed."

"I don't pester," Rodney scowled.

"Either way," D ignored Rodney's interruption, "Colonel Sheppard would never send his men into a potentially hostile situation without doing recon first, hence the MALP. He would also want to have someone track Radim after he leaves the City, which is why I included the Special Ops men. I included the twins as well, in case Radim has any sort of hidden weapons or booby traps. They'll be able to sniff out any hazardous materials. If my assumptions are incorrect, then the MALP can easily be put back in storage, the men can stand down, and the twins can go back to harassing the Marines on KP for snacks. If I am correct, then having everything in place saves time."

"Should I be concerned that I'm so predictable?" John asked dryly.

"Only when it comes to protecting the people who serve under you, Colonel," D replied easily, "I still have occasional difficulty predicting your responses otherwise."

"I believe the words you used to describe him originally," Elizabeth smiled widely, "were 'wildly unpredictable'."

"That's more like it," John grinned proudly.

"Hey," Rodney protested, "I'm unpredictable too."

"No," D snorted, "You're really not."

"Am too," Rodney argued.

"Inside the left rear leg of your desk," D smirked, "You hollowed it out two days ago."

"Damn it!" Rodney swore, "I've gone over every inch of that room and I didn't find any hidden cameras, so how did you know I moved the chocolate again? You can't possibly know these things."

"You have chocolate hidden in your office?" Teyla asked curiously.

"What? No, of course not," Rodney back-pedaled, his face flushing an embarrassed pink, "Why would I hide chocolate in my office?"

Teyla raised an eyebrow as she stared at Rodney calmly.

"I'll bring it to the next team night to share," Rodney promised sheepishly.

"Thank you, Rodney," Teyla replied graciously, "for your generosity."

"Someone remind me to ask Zelenka what the current score is," John grinned at Rodney, "I have Vaughn ahead by twenty points in the pool this month."

"You bet against your own teammate?" Rodney asked incredulously.

"Don't take it personally, McKay," John stood, "The pot was too big to resist."

"So you could've bet on _me_," Rodney almost pouted.

"I could've," John smirked, "But I like to win."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Here, ma'am," D handed Elizabeth a small mask.

"Thank you," Elizabeth held the mask over her face, "Doesn't the smell bother you at all?"

"This isn't my first burnt corpse, ma'am," D replied smoothly, "People who spend time around dead bodies learns to breathe through their mouth so the smell isn't as bad."

"I hope that's a skill I never have to acquire," Elizabeth shook her head, "How's Cor doing?"

"He knows something's going on," D pointed to where a large jet-black cat was sitting by one of the gurneys. Nemesis was sitting next to him, leaning close to groom the fur on his head with her tongue. Cor was mostly tolerating the attention, but every once in a while, he would duck his head away and give an annoyed hiss. Nemesis simply ignored his protests and scooted closer to begin licking him again.

"But as you can see," D continued, "Nemesis is keeping him occupied."

"Yes, I see that," Elizabeth said dryly, "I wonder where she learned that technique."

"No idea, ma'am," D deadpanned.

Carson came over to join the two women, holding a tablet in his hands as he looked to Elizabeth seriously.

"It's not them," Carson pronounced.

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth dropped the mask from her face.

"These bodies you found are not Lorne and his men," Carson started walking towards where Teyla and Ronon were waiting.

"But they were wearing their dog tags," Elizabeth followed Carson.

"I don't know what to tell you," Carson admitted, "I've run the DNA tests three times now."

"Then Lorne and his men could still be alive," Ronon declared hopefully.

"Aye," Carson agreed.

"That's not necessarily a good thing," D pointed out, "We still don't know where they are."

"Dr. Lindsay heard Wraith stunners before the fire broke out," Teyla informed them.

"But this wasn't a Wraith attack, so…" Elizabeth trailed off.

"So whoever it was wanted us to think they were dead," Ronon finished.

"Then who?" Elizabeth questioned, "What could they possibly want with Lorne?"

"We need to go back," Ronon decided, "Question the villagers."

"Okay," Elizabeth agreed cautiously, "But regular radio contact please."

"My version of regular radio contact," D added with a firm look at Ronon, "Not your version."

"You need not worry," Teyla smiled softly, "I will keep you apprised of our progress."

"_Dr. Weir_," John's voice came over the radio, "_We have Ladon_."

Elizabeth reached up to tap her earpiece, "What has he said?"

"_Not much_," John replied easily, "_Apparently, he doesn't like me_. _The feeling seems to be mutual though. The twins keep freaking out every time they get close to him."_

D tapped her earpiece, "What do you mean they're freaking out?"

"_I'm having a tough time keeping Ajax from eating him_," John drawled, "_And I've had to tell Jadzia to back off three times now_."

"That shouldn't happen," D frowned, "Did they find any weapons or explosives on him?"

"_He was clean_," John confirmed.

"All right," Elizabeth exchanged a look with D as the other woman tapped off her radio, "Have one of the security officers take the twins back to Stackhouse and Edison. Maybe that will calm them down. Take Ladon to my office."

"_Your office_?" John seemed surprised, "_Really_?"

"Really, Colonel. We're on our way," Elizabeth tapped her earpiece off and looked to Ronon and Teyla, "You two be careful."

"Nemesis, stop licking Cor. He's as pretty as he's going to get," D called over her shoulder, "Come on, both of you. We're going up to Elizabeth's office to greet our guest."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Dr. Weir, thank you for your warm-" Ladon tried to stand as Elizabeth and John walked into the room, but one of the armed guards behind him set a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down into the chair.

"What do you want for the ZPM?" Elizabeth questioned shortly.

"You people aren't much for small talk, are you?" Ladon looked over as D came in, Nemesis and Cor following behind her.

"Not with criminals," Elizabeth answered steadily, "No."

"As a member of Kolya's strike team, I was following orders," Ladon said sincerely, "I harbor no ill will towards you or your people."

Cor sniffed the air cautiously then snarled angrily as he lunged towards Ladon.

"Cor, _halt_!" D snapped. Cor froze inches away from Ladon, cerulean blue eyes flashing angrily as he bared his teeth at the man, "_Ferse_!" [German: Halt/Stop.] [German: Heel.]

Cor moved back over to D's left side, growling low in his throat as she gripped him by the chin and frowned down at him.

"_Was ist los mit dir_?" D asked sharply. [German: What's wrong with you?]

"Those animals don't seem to like me," Ladon shifted nervously in his chair.

"Is there a problem, Dr. Vaughn?" Elizabeth inquired evenly.

Cor stopped growling long enough to bump his head against D's thigh and let out an anxious whine.

"_Was riechst du_?" D studied the black cat carefully. [German: What do you smell?]

Cor whined louder as Nemesis walked over to Ladon calmly to sniff him. Nemesis growled once, snapping her teeth as she turned back around to look at D.

"I see," D narrowed her eyes, releasing Cor to move over by the guards, "Gentleman, would you excuse us please?"

"Sir?" the guards looked to John.

"I think between Nemesis and Cor," John nodded, "We can keep Ladon under control. But don't go too far."

"Yes, sir," the guards left the room quietly.

D walked over to the control panel by the door and tapped the crystals three times to cloud the glass windows in Elizabeth's office.

"I apologize for this in advance, ma'am," D gestured towards the cats, "_Notieren_." [German: Takedown.]

Both cats leapt forward. Nemesis used one large paw to swipe the chair out from under Ladon and Cor was on him before he hit the ground. Cor put two large black paws on Ladon's shoulders, pinning him to the floor. Nemesis moved over to stand in front of Elizabeth, eyeing Ladon warily as Cor began the low growling again.

"Get this animal off me," Ladon commanded.

"D?" Elizabeth questioned, "What's going on?"

"_Ils n'aiment pas l'odeur qu'il dégage_," D's expression hardened as she looked down at Ladon, "Mr. Radim, I'd like you to meet Cor. Usually, he's extremely polite and well-behaved, but he found out today that his human companion, Major Evan Lorne, is missing – presumed dead. That has him a bit on edge. This wouldn't normally be an issue except you, an unfamiliar person brought into the City under heavy guard, happen to have Lorne's scent all over you." [French: They don't like the way he smells.]

"What did you do to my men?" John stepped forward angrily.

"I did nothing," Ladon insisted.

Cor snapped his teeth in front of Ladon's face, claws extending as he pressed down harder on the man's chest.

"It's not nice to lie, Ladon," D scolded lightly.

"I'm not-" Ladon started.

Cor interrupted with another snap of his teeth, this time closer to Ladon's neck.

"I can keep him under control…probably," D smiled dangerously, "But not for very long. I figure you have about two minutes to answer Colonel Sheppard's question before Cor decides to rip your throat out. And I assure you, Mr. Radim, if you don't answer truthfully, I will happily clean up the mess afterwards."

"Dr. Weir," Ladon pleaded as Cor leaned down to press his teeth against the man's throat and growled louder, "Please."

"I want the truth – all of it, Ladon," Elizabeth ordered firmly, "The ZPM, Major Lorne, everything."

"All right!" Ladon shouted, "Just get this thing off me."

"Ma'am?" D looked to Elizabeth, who gave a quick nod, "Cor, _loslassen_." [German: Let go.]

Cor gave one final growl before he stepped off Ladon, moving over to join Nemesis in front of Elizabeth. D retrieved the chair, setting it upright again before she steered Ladon back into it.

"If he moves from that chair without permission," D walked over to scratch both cats behind the ears and shifted to stand on Elizabeth's other side, the three of them forming a barrier between Elizabeth and Ladon, "Tear his arm off."

Ladon swallowed heavily.

"Start talking," Elizabeth commanded.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Do you believe him?" John questioned.

"I don't think it matters what I believe at this point," Elizabeth looked down through the window to where Ladon was waiting in the gate room, "It's not like he's given us any other options."

"There are always options, ma'am," D ran a comforting hand over Cor's head, "You can choose not to go along with his plans for the coup, but you will sacrifice the lives of Major Lorne's team and the chance at a ZPM."

"We're not considering that option," John scowled at D.

"No, we're not," Elizabeth agreed, "But I'm still not comfortable helping Ladon with this plan. Historically, most coups end up with the new government being about as bad as the old one."

"Without speaking to Cowen directly," D shrugged, "I'm unable to say one way or the other whether he's arrogant enough to be considering galactic domination and whether he's enough of a sociopath to consider nuking civilian populations. Ladon appears completely sincere in his concern, however. And he's telling the truth when he says he bears Atlantis no ill will."

"What if you were able to speak with Cowen?" Elizabeth asked cautiously, "Would you be able to give me a more accurate assessment?"

"If I were able to talk to him in person," D considered carefully, "It's extremely likely, yes. I'd be willing to go to the Genii planet, if it would make you more comfortable, ma'am. If it turns out Ladon is overstating things, it opens up more options for retrieving Lorne's team."

"I thought you said Ladon was telling the truth," John said warily.

"Just because he believes it's the truth, doesn't mean it is," D pointed out, "For a long time on Earth, people believed the Earth was flat. We learned later that wasn't true."

"I'll tell Ladon that we need a bit more time and to set up a way to contact him," Elizabeth decided, "Colonel Sheppard, I'd like you to accompany Dr. Vaughn to the Genii homeworld to speak with Cowen. You'll need some sort of cover to disguise your true purpose there so…tell Cowen you're there to give him a heads-up – that Ladon is planning something – but be vague. Don't give him any details. That way if Ladon is overstating things, we don't jeopardize the tentative alliance we have with Cowen."

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head, "Dr. McKay should come as well. The Genii know that he is part of Sheppard's team and it will look suspicious if he's not there."

"All right," Elizabeth agreed, "And I'll have Ronon and Teyla recalled from M1K-177. They'll be standing-by, along with a strike team, when you return to rescue Lorne, no matter what Cowen has to say."

"Two strike teams," John insisted, "And I'll tell Chuck to gather non-gene users only. If this goes south, I don't want the Genii getting ahold of any more samples than they already have."

"Good thinking," Elizabeth smiled.

"Could've been Mensa," John smirked as he turned to leave, "Let's leave the kits here, Vaughn. I don't want them trying to eat anyone else today. Gate room in ten minutes."

D rolled her eyes at John's back before she turned to Elizabeth.

"I'll need permission to take the sling off for the duration of this situation," D stated evenly.

"Are you sure that's necessary?" Elizabeth questioned.

"As long as I don't raise my arm above ninety degrees, it shouldn't be a problem," D claimed, "And I'd rather have ninety degrees than nothing."

"Okay," Elizabeth brushed a hand down D's left arm, "But be careful. No unnecessary risks."

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head, "But I'm not the one you should be worried about."

"You're not?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"No, ma'am," D grinned up at Elizabeth, "I'm not the one who has to tell Carson you let me go off-world – without a sling – you are."

* * *

**Special thanks to reader LillyD11 for helping me with the French translations!**  
**Special thanks to reader Eli loves reading for helping me with the German translations!**


	58. Truth

Elizabeth was waiting patiently in her office when John, Rodney, and D came in, all three still wearing their off-world gear.

"How did it go?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"The Genii didn't try to kill us even once," John drawled.

"Or take us prisoner," Rodney agreed, "It was a refreshing change."

"And Cowen?" Elizabeth directed the question to D.

"Chief Cowen was polite, charming, and courteous," D answered easily.

"Really?" Elizabeth inquired skeptically.

"He's also a horrible liar," D continued, "A psychopath, a despot, and a general all-around creep."

"So you think he's capable of doing what Ladon says?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Let me put it this way, ma'am," D narrowed her eyes, "_Я буду делать все одолжение, если я пустил себе пулю в его мозгу. Они использовали, чтобы отправить меня после мужчин, как он_." [Russian: I'd be doing everyone a favor if I put a bullet in his brain. They used to send me after men like him.]

"That bad?" Elizabeth frowned.

"That bad, ma'am," D nodded seriously, then the predatory smile came over her face, "_Я тоже могла бы это сделать. Я даже могла бы это сделать так, чтобы выглядилось как несчастный случай. Быстрая, простая работа._ Their security is a mess and their so-called guards are a joke. A couple hours to plan, maybe an hour to get in, do the job, and get out. I can think of at least a dozen different drug cocktails off the top of my head that could do the job. Or maybe just an empty syringe. A stroke caused by an air embolism would be-" [Russian: I could do it too. I could even make it look like an accident. Quick, simple operation.]

"Thank you, D," Elizabeth interrupted with a wary look, "I get the picture. You really didn't like Cowen, did you?"

"I dislike people who abuse their power. More so now than before," D replied sharply. An easy smile came over D's face as she continued in a softer tone, "_Je suppose que c'est à cause de votre influence_." [French: I guess that's because of your influence.]

"_J'espère bien_," Elizabeth returned the smile as she stood and walked around her desk, "Did you get a report from your men, Colonel?" [French: I hope so.]

"The Special Ops guys followed Ladon to M6R-867," John informed her, "Looks like he's occupied a warehouse in a bombed-out abandoned city."

"It was most likely destroyed by the Wraith and never re-inhabited," Rodney added.

"He did a quick fly-over in a cloaked jumper," John continued, "and sure enough there are about twenty life signs in the building."

"Well, twenty life signs on the whole planet, actually," Rodney corrected.

"That's what there should be," D reminded her, "Ladon said Cowen wouldn't move his main force in until after the Lantean teams sent after the ZPM were captured."

"Wait," Rodney looked between the three of them suspiciously, "When did Ladon say that?"

"And then there's the evidence Teyla and Ronon brought back," Elizabeth picked up a stack of pictures from her desk, handing a couple of them to each person.

"What are these?" Rodney frowned, "Why do they have my picture?"

"They look like wanted posters," D pointed at the writing on her pictures, "This is a written in the universal trade language used on over a dozen planets, offering a substantial reward for live capture. And this a bastardization of Satedan. I don't recognize the others."

"That's what Teyla said," Elizabeth accepted all the pictures back and dropped them onto her desk, "She thinks they've been circulated to at least as many planets as there are languages."

"Do they say how much the rewards is?" Rodney wondered.

"McKay," John sighed.

"What?" Rodney huffed, "Don't you want to know how much we're worth?"

"I'm sure if you're that curious," D smiled sweetly, "Teyla would be happy to discuss the finer points of Pegasus currency and the various trade systems with you."

"Never mind," Rodney shook his head.

"So," Elizabeth leaned back against her desk, "It looks like Ladon was telling the truth."

"The truth as he knows it," D shrugged, "There's still the possibility that Cowen knows what Ladon's up to and changed his plans accordingly."

"What do you mean 'what Ladon's up to'?" Rodney scowled.

"How big of a possibility?" Elizabeth asked cautiously.

"I'd say eleven percent," D considered John carefully, "Maybe a little higher if you consider the possibility of Cowen wanting to kill Sheppard out of pure spite."

"Eleven percent's not that bad," John offered, "That means there's an eighty-nine percent chance he's telling the truth. I'll take those odds."

"I was hoping you were wrong," Elizabeth sighed, "and that Ladon was lying."

"I'm rarely wrong about matter such as this, ma'am," D stated evenly, "If you don't want to get involved in the Genii's internal politics, I'm sure the Colonel has already come up with an alternate rescue plan for Lorne's team."

"What internal politics?" Rodney's scowl deepened.

"If?" Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest, "You think we should go along with Ladon's plan? Even knowing what it entails."

D glanced over to John and Rodney before she turned back to Elizabeth hesitantly.

"It doesn't matter what I think," D answered uncertainly, "The decision is yours, ma'am."

"I am asking for your opinion on the matter," Elizabeth held D's stare.

"I think…" D tapped the fingers of her left hand on the gun still strapped to her thigh, "…I think that it's only a matter of time before someone assassinates Chief Cowen. The man is power-hungry and unstable. There's a high possibility he'll use the atomic bombs the Genii have created as a weapon against civilian populations. I don't have the same concerns you do about Ladon's methods. I actually think it's a clever plan. He's ensured the Cowen and the majority of his elite guard will be gathered in one place, away from any civilians that would normally be caught in the middle during something like this. By getting rid of the majority of Cowen's loyalists at the same time, Ladon's all but guaranteed the success of his plan. If Ladon fails in this plan – and I'd like to stress the word if here – Cowen will have him killed, but someone else will take Ladon's place. Likely someone who doesn't have the same sympathies as he does. I believe it's not a matter of if the leadership of the Genii changes hands, it's a matter of when and how. That being said, I think that if we don't help Ladon now, we'll be losing a valuable opportunity. Setting aside the fact that we'd be getting a ZPM out of it – because I still believe he's hiding something about that – we'd be giving up precious political capital with the Genii. Capital that we could use as leverage in the future."

"He'd owe us a favor," Elizabeth said carefully.

"A small one," D agreed, "And the Genii are one of the very few technologically advanced societies we've encountered here in Pegasus. They also have an extensive intelligence network on many different planets. They'd make valuable trading partners and allies for Atlantis. Having the new leader of the Genii indebted to us could be extremely useful in not only creating that alliance, but using it to our advantage. I know that many people here are distrustful of the Genii-"

John snorted disdainfully, moving his hands to rest over his P90.

"-but a lot of that stems from actions that were a direct result of Cowen's leadership," D maintained, "If the Genii have chosen Ladon as their new leader, even if it's only in secret, then most of them don't share the same animosity towards the Lanteans as Cowen does. An alliance with a society like the Genii could make a huge difference, Elizabeth. Not just in the war against the Wraith, but in the future of Atlantis. The Genii need someone who can temper their ambitions, help them develop their ideas into something practical. We can provide that for them. In exchange, we gain a powerful ally here in the Pegasus galaxy – one that could help ensure our survival for a large number of reasons. In this case, the potential rewards far outweigh the potential risks."

"It'd take a great deal of work," Elizabeth declared thoughtfully, "on both sides to make an alliance work between the Genii and Atlantis. One small favor might not be enough to ensure an alliance."

"No, it wouldn't. But it's enough to bring Ladon to the table," D smiled wryly, "And you're absolutely right when you say it will take a great deal of work. If only we had someone here in the City who was experienced in difficult negotiations between hostile countries."

"Was that meant to be a manipulation, Dr. Vaughn?" Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at D.

"No, ma'am," D inclined her head respectfully, "It was meant to be a compliment."

"If you say so," Elizabeth grinned as she dropped her arms back to her sides and turned to John, "Have you gone over the plan with your men, Colonel?"

"I was just about to," John nodded, "We're going through with this then?"

"We are," Elizabeth decided, "At least as far as the coup goes. I'm still not happy with the methods, but I'd rather have someone we've dealt with before as leader of the Genii than someone unknown. I'll have to give the whole alliance thing some thought after we rescue Lorne and his men."

"Give me ten minutes to finalize the details with the strike teams," John straightened and dropped his arms from his gun, "then you can contact Ladon and tell him we're ready to do business."

"Coup? What coup?" Rodney questioned rapidly, "Since when are we considering the Genii as allies? They tried to take over Atlantis. And they've tried kill me-us numerous times."

"We're considering it since Ladon asked for our help," Elizabeth shook her head, "This is another decision I never imagined I'd have to make."

"The first coup is always the hardest, Elizabeth," D reached over to pat Elizabeth's arm, "It gets easier."

"How many coups have you been involved in, Vaughn?" John eyed D cautiously.

"Depends on who you ask," D winced and quickly turned towards the door, "Excuse me, I have to go."

"What's the rush?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

The door opened in front of D to reveal an obviously irritated Carson.

"Never mind," Elizabeth suppressed a smile, "Hello, Carson."

"Are you out of your bloody mind?" Carson glared at D, "You went off-world in your condition?"

"It was important," D took several steps backwards into the room, "You told me I could take the sling off for two hours a day and Elizabeth needed me to go off-world. How did you even know I was back already? And how did you get so close without me realizing?"

"Atlantis," Carson set his hands on his hips, "It seems she's on my side when it comes to your health."

"Traitor," D shot the ceiling an annoyed glare before she looked back to Carson, "I didn't do any further damage, Carson. I was careful."

"I'll be the judge of that," Carson pointed a finger towards the doorway, "Go."

"But Carson," D pouted.

"You'll need this," Elizabeth moved around her desk to retrieve D's sling from the top of the filing cabinet.

D shot Elizabeth the same annoyed glare she had given the ceiling as Carson took the sling.

"To the infirmary with you, Dr. Vaughn," Carson ordered firmly, "Maybe if you're good and behave while I examine you, I might consider letting you go back to light-duty when I'm finished."

"Tyrant," D grumbled as she walked towards the door, "Talk about the need for a coup…"

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Receiving Dr. McKay's IDC," Chuck announced.

"Defense teams, stand-by!" Elizabeth called down from the balcony. She turned to Chuck, "Lower the shield."

As the shield in front of the gate shimmered and dissipated, D laid a steady hand on the top of Cor's head. Men started appearing through the gate, the uniformed Genii handing over their weapons to the waiting security men without protest. Elizabeth breathed a quiet sigh of relief as Rodney and Teyla stepped through next to Lorne, all of them lifting a hand to wave at her. Nemesis whined impatiently and pressed against Elizabeth's thigh. Elizabeth reached down to scratch her head and looked over to D curiously.

"Nem and Cor want to go down to make sure everyone's okay," D explained with an amused smile, "But they're still uneasy around the Genii. They'll keep guarding you until you tell them it's okay to do otherwise."

"Come on then," Elizabeth laughed, "Let's go make sure everyone's okay."

As soon as Elizabeth finished her sentence, both cats took off running down the stairs. Elizabeth and D followed slowly, smiling brightly as Cor tackled Lorne, pinning him to the ground and licking his face until Lorne laughed and threw his arms around Cor's neck. Nemesis went around snuffling the offered hands of the returning men, each of them reaching down to scratch behind her ears in return. Elizabeth reached the center of the group just as Ronon, John, and Ladon came through the gate. Ronon was carrying a large wooden crate and John took Ladon's weapon as Elizabeth and D came up to join them.

"Ladon," Elizabeth greeted him politely.

"Dr. Weir," Ladon nodded.

A red light blinked on the silver device on Ladon's wrist and Cowen's angry voice filtered through.

"_Ladon, come in_!" Cowen commanded.

Ladon lifted his arm closer to his mouth, "This is Ladon."

"_What's going on_?" Cowen questioned.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this, Cowen," Ladon answered sincerely, "You have served our people well."

There was a slight pause before Cowen responded, "_What have you done_?"

"Shield up," John ordered.

The shield shimmered into place and there was a bright flare of light behind it before the gate cut off behind them.

"Is that our ZPM?" Elizabeth looked to the box Ronon held.

"It is," John frowned slightly, "But Rodney's pretty sure it's dead. He wanted us to keep it anyway, in case we ever figure out how to recharge them."

"I apologize for not telling you the complete truth, Dr. Weir," Ladon stated honestly, "But I had no way of knowing that you would be willing to help me without it."

"I understand and I might have done the same in your position," Elizabeth replied diplomatically, "I hope in the future, such deceptions will not be necessary."

"That is my hope as well," Ladon offered a small smile, "I still have business to attend to on my planet, but I would like to see my sister before I go."

"Of course," Elizabeth turned to D, "Will you sort out the situation here while I take Ladon to the infirmary?"

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head and turned to the small crowd with a sigh, "Nemesis, stop sniffing people, they're all fine. Go with Elizabeth to the infirmary," D gave Ladon a speculative glance, "And be nice to Ladon this time. _Es sieht aus, als ob er ein Verbündeter sei_." [German: It looks like he's going to be an ally.]

Nemesis chirruped happily and padded over to Elizabeth as she left the room with Ladon, two of the armed guards following behind them.

"Rodney," D waved him over, "Which lab do you want the ZPM sent to?"

"Zelenka's," Rodney answered quickly, "But I want it under guard until we get the chance to test it."

D motioned to a couple more of the guards.

"Zelenka's lab, gentleman," D ordered easily, "Stay with it until Dr. McKay tells you otherwise."

"Yes, ma'am," the guards nodded. One of them took the box from Ronon, both of them leaving the room quietly.

Rodney tried to follow them, but D grabbed his elbow and held him in place.

"I assume you two will want to stay here with the Genii until they leave?" D looked between John and Ronon.

"Might as well," John agreed, "I don't think they're going to be here long."

"I'll see if I can delay Dr. Beckett's medical teams. He's insisting on giving everyone that went to the planet a thorough physical to make sure the Genii didn't cause any permanent damage," D rolled her eyes, "You should also be aware, I'm almost positive he ordered his staff to use the big needles. He's still a little cranky."

"That's not fair," Rodney protested, "Why is he taking it out on us if he's mad at you?"

"Because I managed to convince him that me going off-world was a group decision," D smirked as she released Rodney.

"But that's not true," Rodney complained, "I didn't even know you weren't supposed to go until afterwards."

"Carson doesn't know that," D's smile widened.

"You're mean person, Vaughn," John scowled at her.

"That's what I've been trying to tell everyone. If you're staying," D shifted to the side so they could see Lorne on the floor. He had finally managed to sit up, but Cor was still sitting on Lorne's legs to keep him from going any further. The large black cat was licking all over Lorne's head, making his hair stand up at odd angles as the gathered Marines watched with open amusement, "One of you might want to consider rescuing Evan again."

* * *

**Special thanks to reader LillyD11 for helping me with the French translations!**  
**Special thanks to reader Eli loves reading for helping me with the German translations!**  
**Special thanks to reader Zoja for helping me with the Russian translations!**

**And, wow, yup, I definitely had four different languages in the chapter. Huh. How about that.**


	59. Schedule

"Rodney," D waved a hand in front of Rodney's face, "Dr. McKay."

"What?" Rodney looked up from his laptop with a scowl, "Go away. I'm busy."

"I assumed you were busy," D rolled her eyes, "When you didn't answer the three radio calls you received five minutes ago and when I stood here for another five minutes without you noticing."

"Why didn't you say something before?" Rodney asked petulantly, "Instead of standing there staring at me."

"I did say something when I first arrived," D answered patiently, "But after I said your name for the fourth time without a response from you, I realized that you were lost in your schematics. I decided to wait until you reached a break in the data before I tried to get your attention again."

"Oh," Rodney pinked slightly, "What did you want?"

"You're late for a meeting," D informed him, "Elizabeth sent me to fetch you."

"Meeting? What meeting?" Rodney's face scrunched up in confusion, "There wasn't anything on my schedule last time I checked. I was planning on spending the day here in the lab, working on the ZedPM data with Radek."

"I added it to your schedule at 0130 this morning," D leaned over to click a couple keys on the laptop. "You're supposed to check it every morning when you wake up. See? Meeting at 1130 in the main conference room and under the list of required attendance is your name."

"Why were you awake at 0130?" Rodney frowned at the screen, "And since when do you have power over my schedule?"

"I coordinate schedules between all the different departments within the City," D explained easily, "As well as consulting on the gate schedule and managing all senior staff members' schedules."

"What does that mean?" Rodney asked suspiciously.

"That means I have excellent organizational skills," D smiled politely, "And that you're late for a meeting."

"It says the meeting was called by Carson," Rodney half-pouted, "It's probably some stupid medical thing. Do I really need to be there? I could be getting real work done."

"You've been glaring at the schematics for the last three days, Rodney," D replied calmly, "The ZPM is dead. Staring at the data won't change that."

"But-" Rodney protested.

"Besides, if the meeting goes the way I think it will," D reached over to tap a couple of keys on Rodney's laptop, "Your team will be going off-world this afternoon anyway. I just saved everything for you. It'll be here when you get back."

"Fine," Rodney grumbled unhappily as he stood, "But there'd better be coffee."

"There is," D agreed, "Have you seen Radek recently?"

"He was here not that long ago," Rodney waved a hand to the empty chair and second laptop across the table, "Is he late too?"

"No," D shook her head, "I was hoping to speak with him about something."

"Can't you just…?" Rodney wiggled his fingers in the air expectantly.

"Can't I just what?" D raised an eyebrow.

"Do your weird psychic voodoo thing," Rodney huffed, "with Atlantis."

"I could," D tilted her head to the side, "But sometimes it's faster to ask than to sift through the hundreds of chords and songs to find a particular one. You do realize it's not psychic or voodoo, right? It's normal function within the City's systems. Anyone with the ATA gene can learn to do it."

"Yes, I know that," Rodney rolled his eyes, "But the way you do it is creepy."

"If you say so," D shrugged, "You'd better go. You're already late."

"You're not coming?" Rodney wondered curiously.

"I wasn't invited," D moved around the table to Radek's laptop.

"Wait, really?" a concerned frown creased Rodney's forehead, "I thought you attended all of Elizabeth's meetings."

"Dr. Beckett requested that I not be present for this particular meeting," D stated evenly, "and Dr. Weir granted his request. Which is why she asked me to fetch you – I was headed this way anyway to talk to Radek."

"Why would Carson exclude you?" Rodney asked warily, "He's not still pissed about the whole Genii-no-sling-off-world thing…is he? It's been three days. He can't still be mad."

"He's not," D gestured to her right arm, "As you can see, he's finally decided I no longer require a sling."

"That didn't answer the question about excluding you," Rodney narrowed his eyes, "It sounded like you already know what the meeting is about, so why aren't you invited?"

"I assume it's because Carson is worried about my reaction after what happened the last time," D replied carefully, "And Elizabeth is concerned with my feelings. Neither of which are necessary."

Rodney let out an annoyed huff, "Can't you just answer a simple question like a normal person?"

"I can, but the question wasn't as simple as you think," D looked towards the door as Radek walked in, "_Dobré ráno_, Radek. I was hoping I could ask you for a favor. What do you know about lasers?" [Czech: Good morning.]

"_Dobré ráno_, D," Radek smiled in greeting, "_Jaký typ laserů_?" [Czech: What type of lasers?]

"_Typ používaný do bezpečnostních mřížek_," D looked over to Rodney again, raising a hand to point at the doorway, "Late, Rodney. Go." [Czech: The type used in security grids.]

"I'm going," Rodney threw his hands in the air. He stomped out of the room as Radek began an excited explanation in quiet, rapid Czech.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"You're fired, Lorne," John muttered as he entered his electronic signature on another form.

"Yes, sir," Lorne agreed good-naturedly, "Here too."

"I'm serious," John insisted, "Fired."

"If you fire me," Lorne pointed to another tablet, "You'll have to do your own paperwork, sir. Sign."

"My hand is cramping," John complained.

"No, it's not, sir," Lorne barely refrained from rolling his eyes at his CO, "And if you'd do your paperwork a little bit every day like you're supposed to, we wouldn't have to go through this every month."

"Didn't I just sign a whole bunch of stuff not that long ago?" John groaned.

"Yes, sir," Lorne answered patiently, "Three weeks ago."

"There's no way we could have accumulated this much," John gestured to the stack of tablets on his desk, "In only three weeks."

"This is only the stuff you have to sign, sir," Lorne pointed out, "I already took care of the rest."

"There's more?" John looked up at Lorne warily.

"Yes, sir," Lorne nodded seriously, "I sent part of it directly to Dr. Weir and the rest to Dr. Vaughn. This is only about fifteen percent."

"I take it back, Major," John signed the tablet in front of him, "You're not fired. You deserve a raise. Should I be reading any of this? I'm not signing over my car to you, am I?"

"A car wouldn't do me any good on Atlantis," Lorne replied easily.

John stopped in the middle of his signature to look up at Lorne suspiciously.

"You should always read whatever you're signing, sir," Lorne smiled politely.

"Then I'd be in here all night," John shook his head and went back to signing, "Can you just tell me the important stuff?"

"Vaughn and I adjusted the gate schedule," Lorne informed him, "Which meant I had to modify the duty roster to account for the change in schedule and increased security presence around the infirmary. She also asked that we start scouting for a beta site to use as a neutral meeting ground with the Genii. Dr. Weir and Mr. Radim have been speaking over the radio, but Dr. Weir believes the talks would go easier in person. I told Vaughn I'd have to talk to you about it first."

"I'm still not comfortable with this whole alliance thing," John frowned, "But I suppose meeting them on neutral ground is better than having the Genii in Atlantis or having Elizabeth go to the Genii homeworld. Do we have teams available without taking any security away from Carson's experiment?"

Lorne pulled a tablet from the bottom of the stack John had already signed, scrolling through it quickly before he answered.

"Not for another two weeks, sir," Lorne set the tablet down so John could see, "All of AR-4 and most of AR-5 are out with some sort of space flu. They're in quarantine for another week. AR-6 has taken over my team's weekly escort duty since Sanchez broke her wrist. My team was cleared a couple days ago and we're back into rotation. I also received word this morning that Lt. Kemp's platoon was put on medical leave last night, which is why I had to rearrange the schedule in the first place."

"An entire platoon?" John questioned, "What the hell were they doing this time?"

"Well, sir," an amused smile pulled at Lorne's mouth, "It seems that Dr. Zelenka created some sort of obstacle course involving lasers as part of Dr. Vaughn's physical therapy. Kemp happened to overhear when Radek was explaining how it worked and wanted to try it out. After Kemp failed the easiest level a second time – in front of Sgt. Andrews and couple others – he decided it couldn't be done and announced that rather loudly in front of Vaughn. "

"And?" John prompted.

"And then Vaughn completed the course, sir," Lorne cleared his throat, "Kemp called it beginner's luck, so Vaughn did it again, at the highest setting, in under three minutes. By that time the entire platoon was there to see it."

"And Marines never back down from a challenge," John swiped a hand down his face.

"Exactly, sir," Lorne grinned widely.

"A laser obstacle course?" John gave Lorne a flat look, "Really?"

"Yes, sir. It's actually pretty cool," Lorne nodded, "The lasers form a grid in the room and you have to get from one side to the other without hitting any beams. At level three, some of the beams start moving and at level six, there's a time limit. At level ten – that's the highest – all the beams move and the timer's set for five minutes. If you break one of the beams or run out of time an alarm sounds and you have to start all over."

"Any serious injuries?" John asked carefully.

"Mostly pulled muscles," Lorne shook his head, "Andrews ended up with a twisted ankle and Hart broke his nose. Nothing worse than that, sir."

"All right, I'll check out this 'obstacle course'," John rolled his eyes, "and see if I can come up with a couple rules to keep anyone else from getting hurt."

"It's across the hall from Gym 4, sir," Lorne moved the tablet with the schedule to the side and put another one in it's place, "Keep signing, Colonel. Only two more."

"Anything else I need to know about?" John signed his name.

"Just this, sir," Lorne slid the last tablet in front of John, "I saved the best for last. Since the engineers finally got the dematerializer working, Dr. Weir was able to convince the IOA to increase the budget for supplies by ten percent. Something along the lines of 'maximizing productivity by providing safety and comfort in the form of material goods'."

"Oh, she did, did she?" John smirked.

"Yes, sir," Lorne gave John a devious smile, "And General O'Neill, in his infinite wisdom, insisted that half of that ten percent goes to military contingent, since comfort doesn't mean much without safety. Which means…"

"Which means, Major," John rubbed his hands together gleefully, "You and I get to pick out some big guns and other cool toys to play with."

"It does, Colonel," Lorne pulled a chair over next to John's desk and sat down, "I started a partial list already."

John pulled the tablet closer and sighed as he read the first couple lines, "Lorne, you can't have a tank. I don't even think it'd fit through the gate."

"It'll fit, sir," Lorne gave him a stern look, "I measured."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"I'm not sure what you want me to say, Teyla," D took steady, even breaths.

"I am merely asking your opinion," Teyla replied gently.

"I'm not involved in the experiment at all," D stated calmly, "I have no basis on which to form an opinion."

"D," Teyla watched as the other woman bent backwards over a red beam, dropping onto her hands as she kicked her legs up into the air, "I know you were left out of the initial meeting and the subsequent updates. I am also aware that little happens in this City that you do not know about. You probably knew Carson's retrovirus was ready to be tested before I did."

"Your point?" D steadied herself on her hands.

"What do you think of the experiment?" Teyla asked curiously.

"I think Carson is an excellent geneticist," D dropped nimbly to one foot as she answered.

"So you believe he will be successful?" Teyla wondered.

"I believe," D paused as she crouched down under another beam, "If anyone can make the retrovirus work, he can."

"Do you think this experiment was a good idea?" Teyla pursed her lips in thought.

"It doesn't matter what I think," D flipped over the last couple beams to land quietly next to Teyla, "The experiment is already under way and proceeding exactly according to schedule."

Teyla held out a small towel to D, watching in silence as she began wiping the sweat from her body. There was a pale pink circle visible at the edge of the black tank top D wore and as she turned to wipe her back, Teyla saw a starburst-shaped scar just below her shoulder blade, half-hidden by her shirt.

"I still have reservations," Teyla admitted quietly, "Carson believes the retrovirus will wipe his memories away, at least partially. They have elected not to tell him the truth about what was done to him."

Teyla watched as D stiffened slightly, her movements with the towel faltering for less than a second, but she remained silent.

"I have expressed my concern to both Dr. Weir and Dr. Beckett," Teyla continued carefully, "But they, and everyone else I have spoken to about this, seem to believe this experiment is a good thing. Progress in eliminating the Wraith as a threat. I have never known you to have a biased opinion. You seem to have a way of seeing all sides of a situation without your own prejudices influencing your judgment. If you tell me that I am being overly cautious, I will let the matter drop."

"I'm not entirely unbiased," D looped the towel around her neck as she turned to face Teyla fully, "I simply have more practice than others in suppressing my emotions when it's necessary."

"You deem it necessary in this case," Teyla raised an eyebrow.

"I deem it necessary in almost every case, Teyla," D met the other woman's stare, "You are ruled by _ethos_, your morals – your innate sense of what is right and what is wrong. You believe that it is wrong to experiment on someone against their will, even if they are Wraith. You believe that it is wrong to hide the truth from someone, even if that truth will cause them pain. Elizabeth is ruled by _pathos_, her emotions influencing everything she does. She fears what will happen to those she cares about if this experiment doesn't succeed and yet she seeks to spare the subject any emotional pain by lying to him about what he is experiencing."

"And what are you ruled by, D?" Teyla asked softly, "Your morals or your emotions?"

"Neither," D replied simply, "I am ruled by _logos_ – logic."

"And what does your logic tell you about this experiment?" Teyla inquired.

"My logic tells me," D glanced towards the door, "that I will not be able to influence the outcome either way, so it doesn't matter what I think. Some people can only learn from their mistakes. The only thing we can do is wait to pick up the pieces afterwards."

"Mistake?" Teyla's voice sharpened, "You do not-"

D laid a steady hand over Teyla's forearm, cutting off her words as the door slid open and John walked through.

"Afternoon, Colonel Sheppard," D dropped her hand back to her side as she greeted him, "I assume you're here about the injured Marines."

"I am," John looked between the two women, "But I can come back later if you're busy."

"I was just leaving," Teyla ran a hand down D's arm, "If you would like to come by my quarters later, I have a salve that will help with the soreness in your shoulder."

"I'm fine," D insisted.

Teyla raised her eyebrow again, staring at D patiently until the younger woman let out a petulant sigh.

"I'll be there at 2400," D grumbled.

"I will be waiting," Teyla smiled warmly.


	60. Secrets and Lies

"He said I was familiar to him," Teyla's gaze followed Elizabeth as she paced the conference room, "He asked if we were friends."

"How did you respond?" Elizabeth questioned.

"I said we were," Teyla answered easily, "After everything he has been through, I thought some positive news could not hurt."

"I think you're right. Stabilization is the first critical stage in his psychological treatment," Heightmeyer watched as D snagged Elizabeth's wrist, pulling her to a stop in front of the table, "He's doing quite well so far, but it's important we do what we can to ease his recovery."

"What's the next stage?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"Integration into the community," Heightmeyer replied carefully, "followed by relational development."

D released Elizabeth as she turned to Carson.

"How is he doing physically?" Elizabeth inquired.

"Excellent," Carson declared, "Vitals normal. All he needs is a bit of physical therapy to regain muscle tone and coordination."

"Do you think he's ready to be released?" Elizabeth wondered.

"I do," Carson nodded.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," John interjected, "We still don't know if there are any residual effects he might be carrying around."

"What do you think, Doctor?" Elizabeth looked back to Heightmeyer, "Is he ready to join the community?"

"A change of scenery could be very beneficial to him," Heightmeyer agreed easily.

"All right then," Elizabeth decided, "Release him."

"I'll assign a couple men to him," John scowled slightly, "In case something happens. I'm not letting him roam freely around the City until we're sure there's no side-effects."

"That won't be necessary, Colonel," D moved away from the table, stopping in the center of the room to look back at everyone, "I'll take responsibility for him."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Elizabeth hesitated.

"Dr. Heightmeyer," D focused on her, "He's in a delicate stage of his recovery, correct?"

"He is," Heightmeyer agreed cautiously.

"Since he has retained very little memory, basically only motor functions and speech," D continued evenly, "He will be sensitive to deception, uneasy around people and things that he doesn't know, almost suspicious, yes?"

"That's correct," Heightmeyer studied D's blank expression.

"If you assign him visibly armed guards, Colonel," D looked back to John, "He will want to know why. It will make him ask questions that you are unwilling to answer."

"You haven't been cleared for-" John started.

"Dr. Beckett," D smiled at Carson politely, "Please tell the Colonel that I am cleared for active duty."

"I cleared her this morning," Carson frowned as he glanced from John to D, "But you still shouldn't be-"

"I can keep an eye on him without raising any alarms," D interrupted as she looked back to Elizabeth, "I've already finished all my work for the next week, as well as the majority of yours. There is nothing pressing on either of our schedules that requires my direct attention. Do you have any objections, Dr. Weir?"

"It's not a matter of you having other work to do," Elizabeth replied carefully, "I don't think you need to be involved any more than necessary."

"_Donc, vous êtes prête à laisser votre vie entre mes mains, mais vous ne me faites pas confiance pour ça_?" D raised an eyebrow, "_Qu'avez-vous peur qu'il arrive_?" [French: So you trust me with your life, but not with this?] [French: What are you afraid will happen?]

"Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth warned, "This is not the time or the place for this conversation."

"_Qu'avez-vous peur qu'il arrive_," D's expression hardened, "_Et franchement, madame, insultant_." [French: What you are trying to do is unnecessary.] [French: And quite frankly, ma'am, insulting.]

"_J'essaie de vous protéger_," Elizabeth's voice wavered briefly as she took a quick step towards D, "_de vous épargner de douloureux souvenirs_." [French: I am trying to protect you.] [French: To spare you any painful memories.]

"_Les souvenirs sont déjà là, madame_." D stated calmly. [French: The memories are already there, ma'am.]

"_Mais vous n'avez pas besoin qu'on vous les rappelle constamment_," Elizabeth insisted firmly. [French: But you do not have to be reminded of them constantly.]

"_Исключая меня от этого проекта, вы мне обо всем напоминаете_," D snapped coolly, her hands curling into tight fists at her sides, "_Я человек или оружие. Чем я_?" [Russian: By excluding me from this project, you are the one reminding me.] [Russian: Either I'm human or I'm a weapon. Which is it?]

"D," Elizabeth paled slightly as she took a small step back, "You know that I don't think…"

"No, I don't, ma'am," D continued in the icy tone, "_Ваши слова говорят одно, но ваши действия говорят другое. Мои лояльности ясны, но кажется, что вам ещё надо решить ваш ум. Я человек и мне можно доверять, чтобы я приняла мои решения или я оружие, которые можно владеть против своим врогом. Выбирайте_." [Russian: Your words tell one story, but your actions tell another. I have made my loyalties clear, but it seems you have yet to make up your mind. Either I am human and can be trusted to make my own decisions or I am a weapon to be wielded against your enemies. Choose.]

Elizabeth pressed her lips together in a firm line as she held D's stare.

"_Je sais ce que je suis,_ Elizabeth," D spoke quietly, her irises flashing black for several seconds before they settled back to ash, "_Et vous_?" [French: I know what I am, Elizabeth.] [French: Do you?]

"Colonel Sheppard," Elizabeth finally looked away from D, "I have no objections if Dr. Vaughn wants to take responsibility for our guest. Of course, you're in charge of security for the City so the final decision is yours."

John crossed his arms across his chest as he looked between Elizabeth and D.

"I don't suppose you're going to explain to the rest of us what that argument was all about?" John asked evenly.

"It wasn't an argument, Colonel," D replied smoothly, "Dr. Weir was concerned I would be unable to fulfil my other duties, but we managed to come to a compromise."

"You're so full of crap, Vaughn," John shook his head, "You and one guard. You wear a gun the entire time."

"No gun," D countered, "And I choose the guard."

"You can choose the guard," John agreed, "But the gun is non-negotiable."

"Fine," D turned to Teyla, "It would be useful if you could spend as much time with Lt. Kenmore as possible, especially if he now considers you a friend. He'll respond better to female attention."

"I would be happy to help," Teyla nodded.

"Carson," D glanced down at her watch, "I'll meet you in the isolation room in ten minutes."

"I'll make sure Michael's ready," Carson pushed away from the table.

"Ma'am," D inclined her head to Elizabeth before she left.

The room cleared behind her, leaving only John and a silent Elizabeth.

"If you have a legitimate reason to not want Vaughn guarding him," John dropped his arms, "You need to tell me now. And don't give me that bullshit about her other duties."

"You've already agreed, John," Elizabeth reminded him.

"I can always change my mind," John insisted, "I'm not going to jeopardize the safety of everyone in this City just to avoid some hurt feelings."

"I'm certain Dr. Vaughn would never purposely endanger the City," Elizabeth turned to pick up her PDA from the table.

"But you still didn't want her involved in any part of Carson's experiment," John pointed out, "You had to have a reason for that."

"It doesn't matter," Elizabeth shook her head and turned to leave.

"It matters to me," John caught her by the elbow to stop her, "Tell me what's going on here. What am I missing?"

"I can't tell you," Elizabeth replied softly.

"Can't," John searched her face, "Or won't?"

"Can't," Elizabeth pulled her arm gently from his grasp, "and won't."

"Elizabeth," John breathed out her name as he stepped closer.

"I trust her to watch Michael," Elizabeth took a step back, maintaining the distance between them as her voice grew stronger, "I trust her to represent Atlantis' best interests. I trust her with my life and my secrets."

"Trust is not the issue here," John frowned.

"Isn't it?" Elizabeth asked as she straightened, "The only objection I had to involving Dr. Vaughn in Dr. Beckett's experiment was…" Elizabeth paused to search for a word, "…unfounded. A simple misjudgment on my part that was cleared up easily. I'm going to have to ask that you refrain from asking any further questions about the matter, Colonel."

"One more and I'll be done," John narrowed his eyes, "Is keeping her secrets really worth what it's doing to you?"

Elizabeth gave John a sad smile before she turned to leave again.

"I've made my choice, John," Elizabeth declared quietly, "I choose to believe she's worth it."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

Rodney was finishing the last of his lunch when he heard a bright peal of feminine laughter, followed closely by a low male chuckle, drift across the room. He looked up from the tablet he had been studying, eyes scanning the room to locate the disruptive noise. At a table close to the door, he saw D sitting next to a man with close-cropped blonde hair, his blue eyes focused solely on D. The laughter died off as D leaned over to cover one of the man's hands with hers, amusement still clear on her face as she spoke again. There was a uniformed man, hands resting over his P90, watching the two of them from his unobtrusive position next to the wall. Rodney pushed his tray away and stood, picking up his tablet and making his way over to the table.

"Ah," Rodney watched as D shifted away, moving her hand into her lap, "Lt. Kenmore."

"So they tell me," the blonde man looked up at Rodney with a wry smile, "Call me Michael."

"Michael," Rodney repeated awkwardly, "Right, yes, of course. Michael."

"I'm sorry," Michael's smile fell as he looked at Rodney uncomfortably, "Um, I'm probably supposed to know you but…"

"Right, right, the amnesia. Yes, of course, I heard," Rodney thrust his hand out over the table, "I'm, uh, Dr. Rodney McKay. Rodney McKay. Doctor."

Michael stared at Rodney's hand curiously for a couple seconds before he held out his own, standing slightly from his chair to reach. Rodney shook Michael's hand, then dropped it quickly, the awkward silence stretching out as Michael sat back down.

"So, you've been, um, released, I see," Rodney hesitated.

"Just now," Michael gestured to the armed guard behind them, "but I have a bodyguard following me around everywhere, and Colonel Sheppard's probably somewhere close by. They want to keep an eye on me in case I suddenly, um...freak out."

"Yes, freak out, yes," Rodney gave a short, fake laugh, "Well, I don't think you're gonna...you're not gonna…You're fine, aren't you?"

"I think so," Michael agreed, "I feel fine. I guess time will tell. Hopefully the amnesia won't be permanent."

"Right," Rodney nodded.

"Was there something you need, Rodney?" D wondered.

"Um, no, not really," Rodney made a wild gesture towards her black tee-shirt, "You're out of your uniform."

"I am not. I'm just not wearing my jacket today," D raised an eyebrow at him, "Was that really why you came over here?"

"You laughed," Rodney blurted as he flushed a pale pink, "You don't-I've never heard…I was just wondering what was so funny."

"The texture of hospital scrubs," D smiled brilliantly, "and their effects on the fluidity of memory."

"Or lack thereof," Michael added, giving D a quick grin.

"That doesn't make sense," Rodney scowled.

"I guess you had to be there for the entire conversation," D shrugged.

Michael tilted his head to look at Rodney's tablet, "Are those schematics for Wraith stun weapons?"

"Yes," Rodney looked down to the tablet and back up to Michael, "Yes, I was just, um...just studying them, you know?"

"You recognize them?" D asked curiously.

"I think I do," confusion came over Michael's face, "How did I know that?"

"Um, one of your team's mission objectives was to, um, infiltrate, um…" Rodney trailed off.

"You've had some experience with Wraith weapons," D responded smoothly.

"You mean when the Wraith captured me," Michael grimaced.

"Uh, well, we've, uh," Rodney stammered rapidly, "We've all been captured by the Wraith at one point or another, haven't we? It's just, uh, the important thing is that you were rescued, safe and sound."

"Safe, yes," Michael offered another wry smirk, "The sound part I'm not so sure of."

"Remember," D laid a hand over Michael's forearm, "It's the safe part that's important."

"The rest will work itself out," Michael squeezed the hand on his arm, "I do remember that."

"See?" D smiled warmly as she withdrew her hand, "You can remember things."

"I guess I can," Michael's expression softened.

"Would you mind taking our trays back to the kitchen?" D stood gracefully, "I need to talk to Rodney for a minute."

"Sure," Michael stood, picking up both the mostly empty trays, "Which one was Rodney again?"

"Smartass," D swatted at his arm, "Just for that, I'm not going to let you throw me around the gym before Teyla gets there."

"Yes, you are," Michael grinned widely, "It's physical therapy for both of us, remember? Doctor's orders."

"Fine," D laughed brightly, "I am, but only because you remembered about the physical therapy."

"It was nice to meet you, Dr. McKay," Michael gave Rodney a short nod before he left.

Rodney scowled at D until Michael was out of hearing range. The smile on D's face fell as she reached across the table to snatch the tablet from Rodney's hands.

"'We've all been captured by the Wraith'," D mocked as she scrolled through the tablet, "'Your team's mission objectives.' Seriously, Rodney? You are quite possibly the worst liar I have ever met. How the hell are you involved in a top-secret program?"

"He caught me off guard," Rodney grabbed the tablet back, "These are in Wraith. He shouldn't be able to recognize them."

"You should always be on your guard," D sighed, "I'll let Dr. Beckett know."

"What are you doing with him anyway?" Rodney frowned and glanced down to the gun on her left thigh, "And since when do you wear a gun?"

"Since Colonel Sheppard asked me to," D turned to leave, "And I'm doing the same thing I do every single day, Dr. McKay. My job."

* * *

**Special thanks to reader LillyD11 for helping me with the French translations!**  
**Special thanks to reader Zoja for fixing my Russian!**


	61. Orders

"He's only had the one dream?" Elizabeth asked carefully.

"Yes," Teyla nodded, "He believes the Wraith did something to him during his capture."

Elizabeth turned to Carson, "Can you do something to help him?"

"Perhaps I can give him a sedative to help him sleep," Carson paused, "Or I could increase his dosage, although I caution against it at this time."

"Why?" Rodney wondered, "If it's helping, what's wrong with giving him more?"

"Because, Rodney," Carson turned to look at him, "I specifically calibrated his regimen according to his current physical condition. Any alteration could adversely affect his recovery. I say we remain patient – wait to see if he has any more dreams. If it's merely psychological, then Dr. Heightmeyer should be able to help him through it."

"Why do we not just tell him the truth?" Teyla inquired evenly, "I am finding it difficult keeping it from him and I am beginning to question whether our course of action is the correct one."

"It's too late to tell him the truth," D stepped into the room, "And Michael remembers more than you realize."

"Shouldn't you be watching the Wraith?" Ronon growled.

"He's no longer Wraith," D gestured to the bank of security monitors behind them, "Michael is with Kate again and as you can see, Colonel Sheppard is lurking in the hallway nearby. I have another fifteen minutes before I need to be back."

"What do you mean he remembers more?" Elizabeth questioned.

"He's retained more of his memories than are readily apparent," D answered easily, "Mostly just basic Wraith instincts, but as I informed you last night, he's also capable of recognizing and reading Wraith language still."

"Which instincts are we talking about?" Carson sat forward in his chair.

"While we've been sparring the last two days," D glanced at Ronon, "I've noticed that once he gets me on the ground, he places his right palm in the center of my chest – like he was going to feed on me. I thought it was a fluke the first time he did it, but he's continued to do it every time."

"He did the same to me yesterday," Teyla added, "just before Ronon showed up."

"He doesn't seem to realize he's doing it," D continued, "but if he continues to have the dreams you were talking about, he will make the connection eventually."

"Let's give him another day or two," Elizabeth decided, "Hopefully, Kate can help him resolve things. Anything else?"

"He's developed a stronger attachment to Teyla than I anticipated," D replied, "It's possible he can still sense their common DNA. And as I suspected, he responds much better to female authority. An instinct developed from years of following a Queen."

"That's not really problematic though," Elizabeth pointed out, "This expedition is run by a woman."

"But you've told him he's military," D countered, "Which makes Colonel Sheppard his commanding officer."

"So Elizabeth can tell him to follow Sheppard's orders," Rodney waved a hand at Elizabeth, "Problem solved."

"Not even remotely," D shook her head, "Right now, the only person he'll follow without question is me. I'll be able to transfer that loyalty to Teyla and eventually to Elizabeth, but I believe he'll always question orders given to him by Colonel Sheppard or any other male member of the expedition."

"_Ai-je vraiment envie de savoir comment vous avez fait pour qu'il vous obéisse_?" Elizabeth asked cautiously. [French: Do I want to know how you got him to follow your orders?]

D raised her right hand, palm out, to Elizabeth with a smile, "_Je me suis fait sa reine_." [French: I made myself his Queen.]

"_Etait-ce sage_?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. [French: Was that wise?]

"_Wise, non_," D dropped her hand with a shrug, "_Mais un bon plan B s'il essaie de faire du mal à qui que ce soit._" [French: Wise, no.] [French: But a good back-up plan if he tries to harm anyone.]

Elizabeth gave a non-committal hum as she looked at the monitors.

"_Les effets sont temporaires, madame_," D stated calmly, "_Je ne peux pas le forcer à faire ce qu'il ne veut pas faire. Je ne vais normalement pas jusqu'à utiliser ce genre de méthode, mais je pensais qu'un peu plus de sécurité serait prudent._" [French: The effects are only temporary, ma'am.] [French: I can't make him do anything he wouldn't normally do. There are no serious side-effects for either of us. I don't normally resort to this particular method, but I thought the extra layer of security would be prudent.]

"I understand," Elizabeth nodded and turned back to D, "Just be careful."

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head.

"For now, we'll proceed as planned," Elizabeth decided, "Offer Michael a sedative to help him sleep and monitor his progress. We'll have to deal with the authority issues after we take care of the dreams. With any luck, any remaining Wraith instincts will fade with time."

"And if they do not?" Teyla asked calmly.

"Then we'll have to consider upping his medication," Elizabeth looked to Carson.

"I'll start calculating a higher dosage," Carson stood, "But it bears repeating, any alteration could make his recovery more difficult."

"I'll keep that in mind," Elizabeth nodded, watching as Carson and Rodney left the room.

"There was one other thing I wanted to discuss while I'm here," D straightened, moving her hand to rest against the gun at her thigh, "I'd like you to ask Colonel Sheppard to back off, ma'am. He and Specialist Dex have been hovering around since Michael was released. Ronon has already confronted Michael once," D glanced at Ronon's angry expression, "which I have spoken to him about. Michael has noticed their presence and remarked on it more than once. It's getting harder for me to explain their attention each time."

"I'm sure they're only trying to help," Elizabeth replied gently, "You've been with Michael since his release as well, without a break of more than fifteen minutes."

"But I am friendly with him," D argued calmly, "so he has yet to question my presence. And I don't need breaks. I'm not sure if the Colonel is concerned with Michael or my ability to guard him, but either way, if he keeps up the passive-aggressive act much longer, it's going to cause problems."

"You shouldn't be friends with that _thing_," Ronon sneered.

D's jaw tightened as she gave Ronon a frosty stare.

"You should choose your words with a little more care, _kunane_," D declared evenly, "Michael had no choice in this."

"He doesn't deserve a choice," Ronon took a step forward, "He's not hu-"

"I suggest you leave, Specialist," D narrowed her eyes at him, "before you say something you will later regret."

Ronon snarled and stomped out of the room furiously.

D took a deep, calming breath and turned to Teyla.

"Will you?" D gestured towards the door.

"I will attempt to calm him," Teyla agreed softly, "But it will take a great deal of time before Ronon can feel anything but hatred for the Wraith."

"I understand that," D spoke steadily, "I am not asking him to feel otherwise. I am only asking that he allow me to do my job without interference."

"I will speak with him," Teyla brushed a hand over D's arm as she turned to leave, "You should rest. Someone else can take your place while Michael is sleeping."

Elizabeth reached over to grab D's elbow gently, pulling her to the corner of the room away from the security officers.

"This is what I was worried about," Elizabeth sighed as she released D, "You're pushing yourself again."

"I am fine, Elizabeth," D insisted quietly, "I don't understand why you and Carson believe you know my limits better than I do."

"You are missing the point, D," Elizabeth whispered patiently, "It's not about your limits. There are people here who care about what happens to you – more than just Carson and I. We're not concerned with what you can endure physically."

"Ma'am," D tilted her head, "Please tell me that you're not worried about my emotional state because of the similarities between Michael and myself."

"And if I am?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "You were rather short with Ronon."

"I was brusque with Ronon because he is making my job difficult, ma'am," D replied carefully.

"That's the only reason?" Elizabeth asked cautiously.

"Elizabeth," D paused, glancing over to the silent security guards before she continued, "_J'étais la seule réussite. Je n'étais pas le seul sujet. Ce n'est pas le premier Michael que je rencontre._ There is no reason for you to be concerned. Will you speak with Colonel Sheppard?" [French: I was the only success. I wasn't the only subject. This is not the first Michael I have known.]

"I will," Elizabeth agreed with another sigh, "If you will agree to take a night off. You need to rest."

"If you speak with the Colonel tonight," D countered, "and he leaves Michael and me alone tomorrow, I'll take tomorrow night off."

"Fine," Elizabeth nodded, "But I expect you to actually sleep during your down time."

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Take one before you go to sleep," Carson ordered easily, "If you're still having problems, come back to the infirmary and let me know."

"Thanks, Doc," Michael shoved the bottle of pills into his pants pocket.

"Anything else, Carson?" D looked between the two men.

"All set, love," Carson smiled at her.

"Off to bed then," D ran her hand down Michael's arm as she turned to leave, "I'll take you back to your room before I leave for the night."

"You're not going to be standing outside my room all night?" Michael smirked as he fell into step next to D, "And here I thought you were some sort of machine that never needed sleep."

"I'm as human as you are," D shrugged, "I just don't sleep very much. Dr. Weir insisted that I take tonight off to rest."

"But what if I get lonely?" Michael protested.

"You still have Sgt. Cole," D gestured behind them to the armed guard, "I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Sgt. Cole doesn't have your sense of humor," Michael argued, looking back to see the man's solemn face, "Or your smile."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," D laughed and squeezed his arm, "What does it matter whether I'm there or not? You're going to take a pill and pass out."

"It's just not the same," Michael grinned widely, "First Colonel Sheppard and Ronon stop following me around all day, then you leave me alone for an entire night. I don't know what I'll do with myself."

"Preferably sleep peacefully," D's smile faded into a blank expression as she looked down the hallway, "And it wasn't an entire day."

"What are you talking about?" Michael followed D's gaze to see John and Ronon coming around a corner, "Oh. How do you do that?"

"Practice," D mumbled as John and Ronon came closer.

"Lieutenant," John stopped to greet them, Ronon standing silently at his side, "Doctor."

"Colonel," Michael acknowledged.

"Where you off to?" John questioned.

"My quarters. Dr. Beckett gave me some pills, help me get some sleep," Michael pulled the small bottle from his pocket to show John, then slid them back in, "Thought I'd give them a try."

"No alcohol or heavy machinery," John smiled awkwardly.

"Excuse me?" confusion came over Michael's face.

"Colonel Sheppard likes to make strange jokes," D explained, "I don't really get his humor most of the time either."

"Right," Michael looked from D to John.

"Never mind," John shook his head, "Sleep well."

Ronon started to move away but Michael stepped over to block his path.

"Hey, Ronon. Um, I don't know what happened between us in the past, but if I ever did anything to hurt or upset you, I just wanted to say that," Michael held his hand out, "I'm sorry."

Ronon only stared at Michael in response.

"Ronon, shake the man's hand," John commanded easily.

"I don't think so," Ronon continued to stare at Michael.

"This isn't necessary," D took a step closer to the two men, "Let's just go."

"He's trying to bury the hatchet," John claimed, "It's not a bad idea, don't you think?"

"Not really," D gave John a hard stare.

"I gotta go," Ronon tried to walk around Michael.

"Look," Michael stepped in front of Ronon's path again, "I just gotta know-"

D moved in between the two men just as Ronon swung his fist at Michael. As the blow impacted her cheek, she threw her right hand up to grab Ronon by the throat. She turned them both slightly, shoving the taller man into the wall hard enough to make him grunt in pain, even as his hand came up to grab her arm. His grip tightened as he struggled against the hold she had on him, trying to free himself as his breaths started coming in shorter gasps.

"Vaughn," John snapped, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Be still," D ordered harshly.

Ronon stopped struggling to get away, but kept his hand tight around her arm.

"I gave you a warning, Specialist," D continued in her severe tone, "Michael is under my protection."

"You would defend him?" Ronon ground out the words.

"Let him go," John ordered, his hand tightening around the gun at his thigh, "Now."

"Down," D loosened her grip and moved back just enough for Ronon to fall to his knees, "You have displeased me, Specialist Dex, and you will be punished for it."

"No one is punishing anyone," John unholstered the gun but kept it pointed at the floor, "I'm not going to tell you again, let him go."

"You will meet me in gym 4 in thirty minutes," D held Ronon's angry stare, "I will then spend the next two hours demonstrating in explicit detail what happens to those who are foolish enough to displease me. _If _you are still alive and conscious when I am through with you, and _if_ you manage to apologize to me sufficiently, I _might_ consider healing your wounds with the Ancient device instead of sending you to the infirmary for the medical staff to deal with."

D released Ronon suddenly and he sucked in a quick breath as he glared at her.

"If you are late," D stared down at him, "you will not enjoy the consequences. Leave."

Ronon got to his feet with a lurch, growling fiercely as he shoved past John to go back the direction they had come from.

"What the hell is the matter with you, Vaughn?" John questioned sharply.

D rolled her right shoulder back and turned to face Michael and John again, her eyes completely black as she brushed her bangs back to one side.

"Are you all right?" Michael asked gently, taking several quick steps and reaching up to brush his thumb over the growing mark on D's cheek, "You're going to have a mark here."

D's right hand snapped around Michael's wrist, twisting it painfully as she withdrew a curved black knife from behind her back with her left. D pressed the sharp edge of the blade against Michael's throat and he froze instantly.

"What did I tell you?" D questioned evenly.

"I don't-" Michael cut himself off abruptly when D pressed the tip of the blade into his neck, piercing the skin to draw a small trickle of blood, "You told me to stay away from Ronon, ma'am."

"And what did you do?" D asked coolly.

"I pushed him into a confrontation, ma'am," Michael swallowed against the blade.

"This will be your only warning, Michael," D released his arm and slipped the knife back into the holster, "Disobey me again, for any reason, and you will suffer the consequences."

"Yes, ma'am," Michael agreed quickly, dropping his gaze to D's shoes, "I'm sorry."

"Go back to your quarters and clean the blood off your neck," D ordered calmly, "Then take the sedative Dr. Beckett prescribed and go to sleep."

"Yes, ma'am," Michael kept his gaze down.

"Sgt. Cole," D looked over Michael's shoulder to where the guard was waiting with his gun trained on the two of them, "Please see to it that Michael makes it to his quarters without further incident."

Cole nodded and Michael gave D a final apologetic look before they left. D waited until she and John were alone in the hallway before she turned to face him fully. She let her still black gaze fall to where his gun was still pointing at the floor, then looked back up to his face with a smirk.

"Are you planning on shooting me, Sheppard?" D asked casually.

"I haven't decided yet," John narrowed his eyes, "What did you do to Ronon?"

"I gave him a set of instructions to follow," D replied smoothly.

"How are you strong enough to hold someone that much bigger than you against the wall?" John questioned, "With one hand. While he's trying to get away."

"Adrenaline has been known to increase strength," D answered easily, "I'm curious about something, Colonel. If this situation had been reversed, would you have the same reaction?"

"What do you mean reversed?" John asked cautiously.

"If Michael had attacked Ronon and I stepped between them," D clarified, "Would you be just as concerned with my holding Michael to the wall, instead of the fact that I held a knife to Ronon's throat and made him bleed? What if it were two random soldiers under your command? Would you still be ready to shoot me?"

John frowned but didn't answer.

"That's what I thought," the smirk finally faded from D's face, "It seems that Ronon is not the only one who believes that Michael is some sort of unnatural creature that is beneath any normal human," D glanced down to her watch, a large hand-shaped bruise already visible around her forearm, "If you'll excuse me, Colonel, I have a few things to take care of before I meet with Ronon. And don't worry," D looked back up to John, "I wouldn't actually kill him for this. He needs an outlet for his hostility. Someone other than Michael. I can provide that for him."

John took a steadying breath and slowly holstered his gun, "I'll let Elizabeth know what happened here. And I'll make sure the next shift of guards are in place outside Michael's room before I go off-duty for the night."

"I figured you would," D stepped around John, "I'll send her a copy of the security video."

* * *

**This chapter gave me a lot of trouble for some reason. I'm not entirely happy with the way it turned out, but it's late, I'm tired, and I'm tired of editing it so it's going up like this.**

* * *

**Special thanks to reader LillyD11 for helping me with the French translations**!


	62. Explanations

"Dr. Beckett," a warm hand settled onto his shoulder.

"Hmm?" Carson looked away from the samples in his microscope, "Yes, Dr. Cole?"

"I know you're busy," Allison smiled softly, "But your two favorite patients came in a couple minutes ago."

"Of course they did," Carson sighed wearily, "What happened this time?"

"Neither of them are really talking," Allison rolled her eyes as she dropped her hand, "Ronon hasn't said anything since he was brought in. D called him a few choice names, dropped him onto a gurney, and tried to leave."

"Of course she did," Carson scrubbed a hand over his eyes, "Did she make it out this time?"

"Luckily, Wynn was here with Marie today," Allison grinned, "He's sitting on her."

"Not on any injuries I hope," Carson pushed away from the desk, rolling his neck back and forth as he spoke.

"Not any serious ones anyway. Not that she would say anything if he was," Allison eyed Carson warily, "Marie and I can take care of them before we leave for the night, if you want to finish what you're doing and go to bed."

"No, that's all right, dear," Carson stood, "I need a break from this anyway. Which one do you want this evening?"

"I'll take Ronon," Allison followed Carson, "We managed to get him under the scanner already and he has a broken wrist."

"A broken…" Carson sighed again, "Of course he does."

Allison patted Carson's arm in sympathy as they came to a stop at the other side of the infirmary. Ronon was sitting on a gurney, his left arm tucked against his middle. Someone had taken off his shirt at some point, leaving it in a crumbled pile next to him, exposing the various darkening bruises and the dozens of long, thin, still-bleeding cuts on his chest and arms. He was staring intently at the white sheet covering the gurney, his hair partially covering his face. D was laying on the floor nearby, all four limbs trapped underneath a large pale cream and platinum cat. She was muttering quietly in German as the cat snuffled happily against her neck. Marie was standing between the gurney and the cat, patiently setting supplies out on the top of a rolling cart.

"All right, children," Carson looked between Ronon and D, "Which one of you wants to explain why you were fighting this time?"

"I think it'd better be D that does the explaining this time," Marie handed Allison a pair of latex gloves, "Ronon's larynx is bruised."

"A broken wrist and a bruised larynx," Carson frowned down at D, "What about you? Anything serious this time?"

"I'm fine," D mumbled, "His wrist isn't that badly broken and his voice will be fine in a couple days."

"Wynn, off the lass so I stick her under a scanner," Carson commanded easily, "If she tries to leave again before I say it's okay, feel free to sit on her again."

The cat gave one final snuffle before he stood, flicking his tail behind him as he moved over by Marie. Carson sighed yet again as he took in D's injuries. The black sports bra she wore left the matching thin, bleeding cuts visible, though there weren't nearly as many bruises and there were several spatters of blood on her gray uniform pants. There was a distinct purple handprint around her right forearm, a swelling fist-sized bruise along the left side of her jaw, and the clear impression of teeth on her left shoulder.

"Is that a bite mark? There's blood," Carson looked back to Ronon with a frown, "You bit her hard enough to break the skin?"

Ronon finally looked up – revealing a matching bruise on his jaw and a dark ring of bruises around the base of his neck – and shrugged.

"Oh, good lord," Carson rolled his eyes, "Violent bloody children"

"He didn't bite me until after I took his knife away," D got up slowly, shooting Ronon an annoyed glance.

"His knife?" Carson gripped D's elbow gently, leading her over to the scanner, "You two were sparring with real knives?"

"We weren't sparring," D"s expression hardened as she spoke quietly, "I was teaching him a lesson."

"And this lesson had to be taught with knives?" Carson scolded as he turned her slightly to look at her back, "No cuts on your back."

"Would you expose your back to an angry Ronon?" D raised an eyebrow at Carson.

"I suppose not, no," Carson admitted, "But I wouldn't be fighting with real knives either. Lie down, lass, and let's find out how much damage you've done to yourself this time."

"You could just ask me," D huffed petulantly.

"I could," Carson patted the scanner bed, "But the scanner doesn't lie to me or change the subject. Up you go."

D sighed and laid down on the scanner, closing her eyes as it began to hum and move over her.

"Doesn't look so bad this time," Carson studied the screen, "Some bruising and minor lacerations. You have a couple micro-fractures along your left mandible and…in every single bone in your right hand," Carson narrowed his eyes at the screen, "How many times did you hit him?"

"Many," D opened her eyes and swung her legs over the edge of the scanner as she sat up, "But I'm pretty sure that's mostly because of all the extra energy I've pushed through my right hand the last couple days. I think it weakened the cell structures temporarily."

"What do you mean?" Carson came over and took D's right hand in his, inspecting the bruised and bloody knuckles, "What energy?"

"Remember when I told you I could manipulate people to a certain extent by touch?" D asked quietly, "I've been working on a theory as to exactly how."

"And what's the theory?" Carson let go of D's hand and she set it carefully into her lap.

"Electrical impulses," D looked up at Carson curiously.

"That…Hmmm…" a pensive look came over Carson's face, "…That actually makes a great deal of sense. Especially if you have as much control over your body as you say. It would explain why you have to be in direct skin contact and how you're able to affect physical changes – like slowing Rodney's pulse when he was under the influence of the Wraith enzyme. If you are somehow able to isolate and replicate the electrochemical impulses that belong to a certain action, the brain wouldn't know the difference and would react accordingly. It might also explain why the Wraith stunners have less of an effect on you."

"Huh," D tilted her head to the side, "I didn't even think of that."

"It's possible," Carson maintained, "Since we believe the stunners are meant to disrupt the neurons in the brain and cause an overload in the nervous system. If you can control the transfer of electrical impulses in your body, you might be able to contain or slow down the effects."

"I think I might have," D remembered, "when Elizabeth tried to stun me. It took more effort than I'd like to admit and I couldn't use my right arm at all. A couple more hits and she would have been able to take me down, albeit temporarily."

"I find the whole idea quite interesting," Carson admitted.

"It's just a theory," D shrugged awkwardly, "I never really had a chance to think about how it worked before I came here. I've been working on the theory – trying to work out the exact mechanics – in what little spare time I have but…I haven't really been able to make much progress."

"I'd like to help you, dear," Carson laid a gentle hand on her leg, "After this experiment with Michael is worked out, I'll happily make the time to assist you, if you'd like to explore it further. Between the two of us, I'm sure we could figure out how your gift works."

"As long as you don't call it a gift," D winced, "It sounds creepy when you call it that."

"Your ability then," Carson patted her leg and stepped back, "Now, let's get you cleaned up and bandaged."

"You know," D hopped off the scanner bed and smiled politely up at Carson, "You could just let me go now, since none of my injuries are that serious."

"Absolutely not," Carson shook his head.

"Fine," D sighed, "But can you at least make it quick? I promised Evan I'd take Nem and Cor for the night. Apparently, they both like to cuddle while they sleep and according to Evan, it's like sleeping with a pair of giant heating pads. He's looking forward to a night off."

"I'll be as quick as I can," Carson laughed.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"You lied to me," Michael stopped pacing the room to point an accusing finger at Elizabeth and John when they came in, "I'm a Wraith."

"You were a Wraith, yes," Elizabeth agreed carefully, "Michael, please…"

"Don't call me that," Michael shouted, "That's not my name."

"All right," John hand tightened around the gun at his thigh, "Take it easy."

"If you would let us explain?" Elizabeth asked calmly.

"Go ahead, explain," Michael spit the words, "But no more lies."

"Watch your tone, Michael," D's cool voice came from the behind the four guards in the doorway, "Get out of my way, gentleman."

The guards parted to let D through, Nemesis and Cor following silently behind her. She was wearing her black tee shirt and gray pants, gun strapped to her left thigh and her right hand bandaged from knuckles to wrist. D flicked a hand towards Elizabeth and Nemesis stopped in front of her, Cor moving over to stand in front of Carson.

"You will speak to Dr. Weir politely," D ordered evenly, coming to a stop in front of Michael, "or not at all. Is that clear?"

Michael glared at the people in the room, the anger still clear on his face.

When he didn't respond, D stepped forward and seized his chin in her bandaged hand, forcing his head down to look at her.

"I do not like to repeat myself, Michael," D gripped him tighter, "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," Michael ground out the word.

"Good," D released him and stepped back, "Now, what the fuck is going on here?"

"Did you know about this?" Michael questioned, still staring at D.

"It's my fault," Carson offered quietly, "I fell asleep at my desk and I…"

D looked over to the laptop still open on Michael's couch and the small case of disks next to it.

"I see," D turned slowly, her stormy gray gaze narrowing in on the guards at the door, "Get out."

"I don't think so, Vaughn," John shook his head.

"Colonel," the line of D's jaw tightened, "Nemesis, Cor, and I are more than enough security. Remove those incompetent idiots or I will do it for you."

"Dr. Vaughn," Elizabeth cautioned, "Maybe it's better if they-"

"No, ma'am," D interrupted sharply, "I am done dealing with these…" D flicked her glance to Elizabeth, "_Как вы думаете, что вы видите, когда мы посмотрим кадры безопасности из больницы? Единственный способ, как Майкл мог бы получить эти диски это что эти дебилы пренебрегали свои обязанности. Я не планирую доверять вашу безопасность в кучу пехотинцев с оружием, которые не могут перестать думать своими хуями достоточно долго, чтобы сделать работу_." [Russian: What do you think you will see when we look at the security footage from the infirmary? The only way Michael could have gotten those disks was if these morons were neglecting their duties. I'm not going to trust your safety to a bunch of grunts with guns who can't stop thinking with their dicks long enough to do a job.]

"_Это не твоё решение_," Elizabeth replied calmly, "_Или моё_." [Russian: It's not your decision.] [Russian: Or mine.]

"_Всё, что связано с вашу безопасностю, это моё решение, Мэм_," D straightened, "_Притворяя, что я безвредная не работает итак я уже не буду скрываться. К концу дня, в моим файле будет новое покрыте, что я полевая агентка в одном из агенств в США_." [Russian: Anything to do with your security is my decision, ma'am.] [Russian: Pretending to be harmless obviously isn't working, so I'm done hiding. I'll have a new cover added to my file, making me a field agent in one of the US agencies, by the end of the day.]

"D, you don't have to…" Elizabeth started, "It's not necessary."

"Yes, it is, ma'am," D insisted, "I keep thinking the situation is going to resolve itself, but apparently, that is not the case. _Это позволит мне бороться с военным контингентом в городе более еффективно. Когда я скажу, что я полевая агентка, моё мнение о безпостности в городе станется важнее. Это тоже позволит мне заниматься их ошибками более непосредственно_. Now, if you would kindly ask Colonel Sheppard to remove the stupidity from the room so I don't have to do it myself." [Russian: This will allow me to deal more effectively with the military contingent in the City. Telling them that I am a field agent will give weight to my opinions about the security of this base. And it will also allow me to deal with their mistakes in a more...direct manner.]

Elizabeth nodded at John.

"Outside the door," John frowned but motioned the men back.

The men moved back, letting the door shut behind them as they left.

"Thank you, Colonel. You and I are going to talk later," D smiled politely as she turned back to Michael, "I did know about this, Michael, but I was not involved in the decision making process," D held up a hand as Michael opened his mouth to speak, "And if you will think carefully over our conversations the last three days, you will see that I have never lied to you."

"You didn't tell me the truth either," a quick look of betrayal flashed over Michael's face, "You pretended to be my friend."

"I don't have friends, Michael," D replied quietly, "I didn't pretend to be anything with you. I fought to be responsible for you when they would have kept me away. I have defended you, more than once."

"Because it was part of your job," Michael argued bitterly, "You manipulated me into trusting you."

"You know that's not true," D stepped forward again.

"Then why?" Michael asked softly, "Why do you care?"

"Because we have more in common than you think," D laid a gentle hand on his cheek, "They made you more human. They made me less. You have a choice now, Michael."

"What choice?" Michael held D's steady gaze.

"Dr. Beckett and Dr. Weir are going to explain what they did to you and why," D explained carefully, "Then you are going to have to decide whether you want adapt to your new reality or not."

"And if I don't?" Michael questioned, "If I can't adapt? Will you let me go home?"

"No," D answered simply.

Michael closed his eyes as D dropped her hand.

"Will you listen?" D asked gently.

"No more lies," Michael opened his eyes and looked over to Elizabeth, "Just tell me the truth. Please."

"No more lies," Elizabeth nodded in agreement, "This is what we know of the Wraith: they evolved from a creature that we call the iratus bug. That bug began taking on characteristics of the humans it was feeding on and, over time, became the Wraith that we know now. So Dr. Beckett has developed a drug."

"It's a retrovirus designed to suppress the iratus bug elements of the Wraith genetic code, leaving only the human aspects behind," Carson continued the explanation, "It took some time to perfect but we finally achieved a viable drug, which we then decided to test."

"The injections?" Michael sighed wearily, "Insulin?"

"Not insulin," Carson confessed, "I'm sorry. You see, once the retrovirus was administered and the transformation begun, another drug was needed to prevent the Wraith elements from returning. It's actually a combination of drugs which unfortunately require a daily injection."

"So what are you saying, that-that being a Wraith is some kind of disease?" Michael questioned, "Something you think you can cure? What gives you the right to do this to me?"

"We're at war," John responded evenly, "The Wraith will stop at nothing to kill every one of us. And we'll stop at nothing to make sure that doesn't happen."

"You made up everything," Michael swept a hand around the room, "My name…the photograph of my parents…"

"It was my decision to keep the truth from you," Elizabeth admitted.

"Why?" Michael kept his voice steady.

"For a while, we were concerned that if you were told, you may react the way you are now," Elizabeth claimed.

"The whole point was to erase any trace of Wraith inside you, not to keep reminding you of it," John added, "And trust me, you're a helluva lot better off now than you were before."

"Well, I wouldn't know that, would I?" Michael dropped down to sit on the edge of his bed, "Since I can't really remember much of my life before three days ago."

* * *

**Special thanks to reader Zoja for fixing my Russian!**


	63. Decisions

**WARNING! There is some graphic violence and lots of blood at the end of the chapter. Please don't read if it will upset you. **

* * *

Michael sat on the edge of his bed, staring absently out the window. He heard D flip a page in the book she was reading, stretched out in his desk chair, otherwise silent as she left him to his thoughts. The glass door to his room opened and Teyla walked in quietly. She nodded to D in acknowledgment before stopping in front of Michael.

"Michael?" Teyla started uncertainly, "I know you are angry. I am sorry for what you have been put through. But, in time, I think you may come to see this as-"

"Were you part of the team that captured me?" Michael interrupted.

Teyla hesitated and Michael turned away from the window to look at her, rubbing his fingers over his temple as he looked down towards the floor.

"You told me before that you and your team rescued me when I was captured by the Wraith. But now I'm starting to realize who did the actual capturing," Michael dropped his hand back to the bed and looked up at Teyla again, "And you have the nerve to call yourself my friend."

"I would like to be your friend," Teyla took a small step forward, "I would."

"You expect me to believe that?" Michael scoffed.

"You may not understand this now, but making you human…" Teyla trailed off, "I believe this could make your life better."

"Really? Because from what I was told, you made me human in order to make your lives better," when Teyla didn't respond, Michael tilted his head curiously, "So tell me then – what makes being human better than being a Wraith?"

"They are evil," Teyla insisted, "They kill us, feed on us, show no mercy, know nothing of compassion…"

"And humans are different?" Michael questioned.

"Yes," Teyla answered firmly.

"So what you did to me," Michael's expression hardened, "That was done out of compassion?"

Once again, Teyla was unable to answer. Michael stared at her uneasy expression for another minute before he turned back to the window. Teyla let out a soft sigh and left the room as quietly as she entered.

"Alienating her won't help you," D's calm voice broke the silence.

Michael turned from the window to meet D's gaze as she looked up from the book she held.

"What does it matter?" Michael inquired, "It's not like she was actually my friend."

"She would be," D maintained, "If you would let her. Teyla has a great deal of empathy."

"I don't need her pity," Michael argued.

"It's not pity, Michael," D closed the book silently, "It's compassion. She doesn't feel sorry for you. She feels sympathy for what you have experienced. Teyla was the only person to voice her concerns about this experiment. She never wanted to keep the truth from you and tried several times to convince the others. She will be the only person to advocate for your humanity when the senior staff has their inevitable 'should we keep him?' meeting. Treating her with even a small amount of kindness with gain you a valuable ally when the time comes."

"Why bother?" Michael asked resignedly, "My fate is in someone else's hands. All anyone can see when they look at me is Wraith."

"Even me?" D raised an eyebrow, "Do you honestly believe I see Wraith when I look at you?"

"I…" Michael faltered, "I don't know what you see."

"I see only you," D stated gently, "Whatever you choose to be. I don't pity you and I don't feel sorry for you. I understand you, Michael."

"Why did you volunteer to watch me?" Michael questioned, "Because you don't trust anyone else to do the job right?"

"Partly," D admitted, "But mostly because I knew I would be the only one to offer you a choice."

"What choice?" Michael laughed bitterly, "I haven't been in control of my life since I was captured. Someone tells me when to eat, when to sleep, where to go…someone even told me what I'm supposed to be. What choice could you possibly offer me?"

"You always have a choice, Michael," D set the book on his desk, "You have another appointment with Dr. Heightmeyer in ten minutes. Why don't we leave now and take the long way?"

"Why?" Michael stared at D as she stood.

"I need to stretch my legs," D replied easily, "You've been moping in this room all morning and I'm tired of sitting."

"No, I mean," Michael stood and moved over to stand close to D, "Why would you give me a choice? No one else will."

D reached up to lay a gentle hand on his cheek, "Because I understand."

"If I were still fully Wraith," Michael studied her face, "I would feed on you like any other. I wouldn't give you the same consideration you are giving me."

"I know," D rubbed a thumb over his cheekbone.

"It's not compassion, is it?" Michael wondered curiously, "What you feel, it isn't…You wouldn't advocate for my humanity like Teyla or hate me for being Wraith, no matter how I look, like Ronon."

"Not compassion," D agreed as she dropped her hand, "Understanding."

"I don't know what you're offering me," Michael confessed quietly.

"I'm offering help," D clarified.

"Help with what?" Michael questioned, "I don't understand."

"Help with whatever you decide," D replied softly, "And you will understand when you figure out what choice you have to make."

"All right," Michael nodded, sweeping a hand towards the door, "Shall we?"

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"They want you in the infirmary," Cole announced, "Time for your injection."

Michael stopped prowling the room, taking a deep breath before he followed Cole through the doorway, feeling D fall into step next to him.

The small group made their way through the halls quietly, earning several stares and whispers from the people they passed. They were about halfway to the infirmary when Ronon appeared behind them, left arm in a white cast from elbow to knuckles. He glared at the back of Michael's head until the other man stopped, turning back to Ronon and stepping down two steps until they were face to face.

"What are you doing?" Cole questioned, shifting his grip on his gun.

"What do you want from me?" Michael returned Ronon's stare.

Ronon gave him an unpleasant smile, "Just waiting for you to give me a reason to kill you."

"Specialist," D warned.

"I guess I should thank you," Michael nodded, "You're the only one around here who's been completely honest with me the entire time."

"Lt. Kenmore," Cole prompted, "The infirmary?"

"You heard him. Better get moving," Ronon sneered as he looked Michael up and down, "_Lieutenant_."

"Michael," D stepped closer, her voice soft but firm, "Please."

Michael glanced over to D, then back to Ronon as he smiled pleasantly.

"You're right, D," Michael agreed. He kept his eyes on Ronon as he reached over to brush an invisible hair back behind D's ear, slowly sweeping a hand down her arm to grasp her hand, "Let's-"

"You don't touch her," Ronon interrupted with a roar, grasping Michael's shoulder to yank him away.

Michael elbowed Ronon hard in the stomach and shoved him towards Cole. As the two men tumbled down the stairs, Michael grabbed D by the throat, shoving her right side into the nearby wall. She let out a small gasp of pain as he yanked the gun from her holster. He shoved her into Ronon and Cole and took off running.

Ronon snarled and pulled his blaster, firing off a shot in Michael's direction, only to have the shot go wide when D pushed his arm out of the way. She twisted the blaster from his grip, yanking out the gold ammo cartridge and throwing it down the opposite direction in the hallway. She twirled the blaster in her hand to hold it by the barrel and swung it widely, hitting Ronon hard across the cheek and making him stumble backwards as she dropped the weapon to the floor.

"Call it in," D ordered, sparing Cole a quick glance before she took off running after Michael.

Cole tapped his earpiece as Ronon hurried to retrieve the pieces of his blaster, "This is Sergeant Cole. Kenmore's escaped. Level five, east tower," Cole glanced over the blood dripping down Ronon's face as the taller man ran by, "Also requesting a medical team. Ronon and Vaughn are also in pursuit."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

Michael ran through the halls, going down several sets of stairs and around another corner before he stopped to catch his breath. He heard soft footfalls coming down the corridor and lifted the gun to aim at the person as they rounded the corner.

"Stop there," Michael ordered.

"Michael," D raised her hands slowly, holding them in front of her at shoulder height, "It's just me."

"Stop calling me that!" Michael shouted, "That's not my name."

"Calm down," D's voice stayed composed, "Yelling will only alert everyone else to your location."

Michael took a deep breath, but kept the gun trained steadily on D.

"Sgt. Cole is going to come down the stairs in a minute," D informed him, "If we take a couple steps back this way and switch positions, he won't have a clear shot."

"I…" confusion came over Michael's face, "Why would…"

"You'll also be able to see both directions," D continued, "Specialist Dex and Colonel Sheppard won't be far behind him. They won't shoot me to get to you."

"Fine," Michael agreed warily, "But you stay back."

Michael and D circled each other, moving until Michael was in the position D directed. Just as they stopped, Cole came down the nearby set of stairs and aimed his stunner towards them.

"Stay back," Michael commanded firmly, "Or I'll shoot her."

"Dr. Vaughn?" Cole questioned.

"I'm fine, Sgt. Cole," D assured him, never looking away from Michael, "Would you mind moving back please? I think it would make all of us more comfortable."

Cole took two steps away from them, but didn't lower the stunner.

"I can't…" Michael started, "I just need to…I just need everyone to back off so I can think."

"It's all right," D nodded, "Take whatever time you need. I am going to move closer to you though."

"No, don't," Michael ordered, "You'll-"

"If I don't," D started forward slowly, "Ronon is going to kill you when he gets here. I'm only blocking his shot. I'll keep my hands to myself until you tell me otherwise. Is that all right?"

"Just…don't touch me,' Michael agreed reluctantly.

"Never without your consent," D agreed as she stopped with the gun pressed against her chest, "Can I put my hands down now or would you like me to keep them up?"

"You can put them down," Michael looked over her shoulder as more thundering steps approached. Ronon stomped towards them, blaster raised as John and Teyla stopped a short distance away, both of them aiming stunners at Michael.

"Stop there," Michael commanded, "Don't come any closer."

"He has a gun on Dr. Vaughn," Cole informed them.

"His finger's on the trigger and the barrel's over my heart," D stated evenly, "Even if you stun him, he'll be able to get a final shot off. Shoot him and you kill us both."

Ronon growled angrily as he stopped next to Cole.

"Everyone just take it easy," Sheppard ordered calmly, "I'm sure we can work something out."

"Michael, please," Teyla pleaded, "There is no need for anyone to get hurt."

"He is _Wraith_," Ronon snarled, "He deserves to die."

"Let us take you to the infirmary," Teyla continued, ignoring Ronon's outburst, "Let Dr. Beckett give you an injection and we will all forget this incident. No one was seriously injured. We need not resolve this with violence."

"She's right," John agreed, "Put the gun down and we can all walk away."

"Stop trying to reason with him," Ronon roared, "He's not human!"

"_Quiet_!" Michael shouted angrily, "Everyone just _be_. _quiet_."

A tense silence fell over the group, Michael's loud, ragged breathing the only sound heard. His blue eyes drifted over the people aiming weapons at him before he looked back down to D.

"Do you see?" D asked gently.

"I understand," Michael nodded as he whispered in response, "The choice. I see it now."

"Have you decided then?" D held Michael's stare.

"They're never going to trust me," a wrecked expression came over Michael's face, "Are they?"

"No," D answered simply, "They're not."

"And I'm never going to trust them," Michael continued brokenly, "Am I?"

"No, you won't," D lifted her left hand to place it over the gun, "Not after this. You'll always know, somewhere deep in your brain, what they did to you. That feeling won't ever go away. You won't ever be able to forget."

"Okay," Michael took a deep breath and released the gun, "I've decided."

D slid the weapon silently back into her holster.

"Can I ask one question first?" at D's short nod, Michael continued softly, "What are you, really?"

"Oh, darling boy," D stepped forward, lifting her bandaged right hand to his cheek and leaning up on her toes to press a soft kiss to his lips, "You would've been wonderful."

D leaned back, using her left hand to yank the curved black knife from the holster in the small of her back and burying it in Michael's chest before anyone could react. His body shuddered as she twisted the knife and his head tipped forward to rest against D's shoulder as blood started pooling on the floor between them. D slid her hand from Michael's cheek to lay it over the back of his neck, holding him close in an obscene parody of intimacy.

"I am an angel with a blade in my hand and blood-soaked wings," D's rough voice was barely loud enough to be heard, the words whispered against Michael's cheek, "I am death. I am destruction. I am vengeance. I am chaos. I am release. I am Azrael, the Archangel of Death, and I am your end."

Michael lifted his head weakly to meet D's eyes once more.

"Thank you," Michael gasped as D jerked the knife out.

D ripped the knife across Michael's neck, sending a fresh spray of blood across her body as he dropped lifelessly to the floor.

"What a waste," D shook her head as crouched down, using the one clean corner of Michael's shirt to wipe the blood from her knife.

"What did you do?" Teyla looked between them with a horrified expression.

"I gave him what he wanted," D replied smoothly.

"It's about time," Ronon declared, putting his blaster away with a satisfied grin.

D slid the knife back into her holster as she stood again, turning to face Ronon with empty black eyes and a blank expression. There was a large wet stain covering the majority of her black shirt, her pants stained red at the top, and blood drops were spattered across her face like her freckles. She walked calmly over to Ronon and slapped him across the face, leaving a smeared bloody handprint on his cheek.

"Whether he lived or died was _never_ your choice," D said coolly, "It was his. How dare you? Do you even understand what you were doing, _kunane_? You tried to do the same thing the Wraith did to you. They kept you alive when you would have died in defense of Sateda. You were trying to take that choice from him. That makes you no better than the Wraith."

"But you-" Ronon tried to argue, "I wasn't-He's not…"

"You can call the medical team to retrieve his body now, Colonel," D declared flatly, turning away from Ronon to face John, "I'm sure Dr. Beckett will want to do an autopsy for his research. The heart muscle is pretty much destroyed, but everything else is intact."

"You're going to have to come with me, Dr. Vaughn," John stated calmly.

"I'm going to shower and change first," D blinked slowly and her eyes began fading back to ash.

"Dr. Vaughn," John stepped in front of D as she tried to move past him.

"Colonel Sheppard," D kept her gaze at a distant point over John's shoulder, "I understand there will have to be an incident report for what just happened. I will cooperate fully with any investigation that Dr. Weir deems necessary, but right now, I'm going to shower off Michael's blood and put on fresh clothes. Now, you can either step aside and let me go or I can force my way past you, but either way, I'm not doing anything else until I am clean. Make your decision quickly, please."

"Sgt. Cole," John called the man over, "Please escort Dr. Vaughn to her quarters and remain outside while she showers. As soon as she is finished, bring her to Dr. Weir's office."

"Yes, sir," Cole nodded.

"Thank you, Colonel," D unholstered her gun and held it out to John, "I'm not giving you my knives. I'll leave them in my room when I report to Dr. Weir's office."

"Make sure you do," John took the gun and stuffed it into the back of his pants, "What happened to never handing someone a loaded gun?"

"It's not loaded," D replied as John moved out of her path, "You told me I had to carry a gun, you didn't say I had to have bullets in it."

* * *

**I'm back! Yay! **

**Sorry it took so long, I've had a lot less time to write than I thought. But I'm back now and that's what's important, right? Right. Anyway, enjoy the story and thanks for sticking with me. **


	64. Consequences

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, looking up from her laptop when the chime sound at her office door.

"Come in," Elizabeth ordered.

The door slid open and D stepped in, Cole following two steps behind her. Her hair was still shining wet, falling in loose waves around her shoulders and down to the middle of her back. She wore a plain black, long-sleeved tee shirt and a clean pair of neatly pressed gray uniform pants with her black boots, empty gun holster strapped around her left thigh. She carried her gray jacket over one arm, laying it over the back of one of the chairs in front of Elizabeth's desk as she came to a stop.

"Dr. Weir," D inclined her head, then looked over to John where he stood next to Elizabeth's desk, "Colonel Sheppard."

D pulled each of her sleeves up briefly, showing only skin before she turned around and lifted the back of her shirt. She tucked the shirt back into the top of her pants, then turned back around, bending to lift each pants leg and run a single finger around the inside top of her boot. She straightened again and met John's stare for several seconds before dropping her ash gray gaze to the floor in front of Elizabeth's desk.

"I am unarmed," D declared easily, "As requested."

"Thank you, Sgt. Cole," Elizabeth looked over D's shoulder to the waiting man, "If you would step outside and close the door."

"Yes, ma'am," Cole left quietly.

As the door shut behind Cole, John moved over to the control panel and tapped it three times, clouding the glass panels.

Elizabeth tapped her radio, "Chuck, Colonel Sheppard, Dr. Vaughn, and I are not to be disturbed – barring emergencies – until I say otherwise."

Elizabeth tapped the earpiece off.

"Please sit," Elizabeth gestured to one of the chairs.

"Ma'am, I'd rather-" D started.

"Sit down," Elizabeth ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," D settled gracefully into the chair with her jacket on it.

"Colonel Sheppard has already given me a preliminary report," Elizabeth watched as John came back around her desk to stand next to her, "And I just finished watching the security video."

"Yes, ma'am," D responded automatically.

"Well?" Elizabeth prompted, "Don't you have anything to say?"

"You haven't asked me any questions, ma'am," D laid over hands over her legs, palms flattened tightly against her thighs.

"Would you like to give me your version of events?" Elizabeth inquired evenly.

"I think the footage gives a pretty clear picture of what happened, ma'am," D kept her stare on the empty space on the floor, blank expression revealing nothing.

"And you have nothing to add?" Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest.

"No, ma'am," D answered steadily, "If you would like, I can type up a formal incident report. It would only take me twenty minutes, ma'am."

"What I would like," Elizabeth's jaw tightened, "is an explanation."

"An explanation for what, ma'am?" D asked calmly.

"Do you understand what you did?" John questioned angrily.

"Do you?" D's eyes flickered up to John.

"You killed an unarmed man," John snapped.

"I did," D agreed easily.

"You told me that I could trust you with this," Elizabeth unfolded her arms, leaning forward to press her fingertips onto her desk, "You told me that I could trust you to make your own decisions. I am trying to understand, I really am, D, and I'm trying to help, but…you won't even say anything to defend yourself."

"I understand that you are angry with my actions, ma'am," D shifted her stare to the back of Elizabeth's open laptop, "But I do not believe my actions need defending. I have done nothing inappropriate and I have in no way neglected any of my duties."

"You don't…" Elizabeth's eyes widened momentarily, then narrowed sharply. She picked up a tablet from the small stack on her desk, scrolling to the appropriate screen quickly, "Let's start with this medical report. Bruised larynx. Spiral fracture of the left radius and left ulna. Micro-fractures in the left mandible. Thirty-seven lacerations on the chest – the shortest two inches in length – requiring a total of nineteen stitches. Multiple contusions on the chest, back, legs, arms. Bruised and lacerated knuckles on both hands. And as of half an hour ago, a fractured right zygomatic bone and a one inch laceration requiring four stitches," Elizabeth set the tablet down, picking up the next one in the pile, "Here's another medical report for you. Micro-fractures in the left mandible. Thirty-seven lacerations on the chest – the shortest two inches in length – requiring a total of fourteen stitches. Puncture wounds on the left shoulder from a human bite. Severe contusions on the right forearm. Additional contusions on the chest, arms, and legs. Micro-fractures in all phalanges, metacarpal bones, and carpal bones of the right hand. Bruised and lacerated knuckles on both hands," Elizabeth set the second tablet down on top of the first, "Explain."

"I was attempting to teach Specialist Dex a lesson, ma'am," D stated evenly, "Last night, Ronon's emotions got the better of him and he attacked Michael. I stepped between them and redirected his anger towards me. We sparred for two hours in gym 4, after which I took him to the infirmary for medical treatment. The worst of his wounds were treated with the Ancient healing device by Dr. Cole and Nurse Ko. Between the device and the care he will receive from the medical staff, Specialist Dex will be fully healed and ready for active duty in two weeks. Should he choose to speak to me in that time, I will attempt to resolve the issue between us. If he doesn't, I will avoid any unnecessary contact with him in the future. You should have received copies of the security footage both from the initial incident and from the gym."

"Did you force Ronon to follow your instructions?" Elizabeth questioned.

"I encouraged him to be angry at me, ma'am," D replied carefully, glancing at John quickly as she continued, "I cannot and would not force him to do something truly against his will."

"I _did_ see the security footage," Elizabeth gestured to her laptop, "I saw Ronon come into the gym. I saw him hit you first. I saw him draw his knife. I saw you _let him_ cut you before you bothered to respond," Elizabeth held up a hand when D opened her mouth to speak, "The lacerations on his chest match yours almost exactly, except for the fact that his are deeper. What lesson was he supposed to have learned from that experience?"

"That his actions no longer affect only himself, ma'am," D answered steadily, "Ronon has an enormous amount of rage in him that he hasn't learned how to control yet. He's having trouble readjusting to a group mentality, a military mindset – thinking about not just himself but about his unit, his team. Every time he sees the wounds on his own body, he will remember that he gave them to me first. He will remember that he was so angry that he attacked someone he considers _ohana nui_. When he finally takes the time to think about the situation or to talk to me about it, he will realize that I was doing my duty, as he should have been. And hopefully next time a situation like this arises, he will not let his emotions dictate his actions." [Hawaiian: extended family; clan]

"So you saw that Ronon was pissed off and still having trouble adjusting," Elizabeth's jaw twitched in anger, "and you thought the best solution was to shove him into a wall, then let him beat the shit out of you."

John raised an eyebrow at Elizabeth's uncharacteristic cursing, but D only dropped her stare back to the floor.

"Yes, ma'am," D dug her fingers into her thighs.

"I don't think your teaching methods are nearly as effective as you thought they would be," Elizabeth crossed her hands over the top of her desk, "At least according to the video from when Michael tried to escape."

"With all due respect, ma'am," D looked up to the back of Elizabeth's laptop, still not meeting the other woman's eyes, "You are incorrect. Specialist Dex was keeping himself under control until Michael purposely provoked him."

"Provoked how?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"Family is an important part of Satedan culture, ma'am," D responded easily, "Michael touched the person Ronon considers _kuahine_ – sister – in a way that he perceived as intimate. He had the same reaction, though not quite as severe, when he learned Vathek attempted to assault me. It was the main reason I chose to teach Ronon the way I did."

"Is that also why you chose to take Ronon's weapon and hit him with it?" Elizabeth questioned sharply.

"No, ma'am," D answered evenly, "Specialist Dex had his weapon set to kill. I took the weapon from him and struck him with it to delay him. I knew that if Ronon got to Michael before I did, he would kill him instead of taking him into custody."

"Like you did?" John scoffed.

"Had Michael made a different decision," D replied carefully, "My actions would have been different."

"Let's talk about your actions, shall we?" Elizabeth rotated that laptop and pressed a key to play the video on the screen.

D watched impassively as she maneuvered Michael into position and the others aimed weapons at them. Elizabeth reached forward to stop the video when D bent to clean her knife.

"You knew Sgt. Cole would be the first one there," Elizabeth started.

"Yes, ma'am," D agreed, "His chords were the closest."

"You moved Michael so the Sergeant wouldn't be able to stun him," Elizabeth continued.

"Yes, ma'am," D dug her fingers into her thighs again.

"You lied to everyone about the danger you were in from Michael's gun," Elizabeth stated evenly.

"My gun," D corrected, "Yes, ma'am."

"And _after_ Michael surrendered _your gun_," the frustration was now clear in Elizabeth's voice, "You killed him."

"Yes, ma'am," D dropped her stare to the ground again, "He was in no pain when he died."

"Stabbing someone in the heart isn't painful?" John retorted, "Slashing someone's throat isn't painful?"

"Not if I don't want it to be," D declared softly.

"Why?" Elizabeth stood suddenly.

"Ma'am?" D asked quietly.

"Why did you kill him?" Elizabeth clarified, narrowing her eyes at D as she straightened, "And so help me, D, if you say it was because he was a security threat, I will dial Earth myself to send you back."

D reached forward to rewind the video, pausing it just after Michael released the gun. She turned the laptop back to face Elizabeth and John fully.

"Because he wanted me to," D replied calmly.

"You cannot expect me to believe that he _wanted_ you to kill him," Elizabeth gave D an incredulous look.

"Look at his face," D directed the statement to John, "Tell me you haven't seen it before."

John looked down at the screen, studying the frozen expression on Michael's face. He finally uncrossed his arms from his chest, his stance relaxing as he spoke.

"I have," John agreed softly.

"Michael made his choice, ma'am," D looked up to Elizabeth hesitantly, "I told him I would help him, no matter what it was. He wanted release from his pain and I gave him that."

Elizabeth looked between the screen and John expectantly.

"Sumner," John answered the unspoken question.

Guilt flickered over Elizabeth's expression as she turned back to D.

"We could've helped him adjust," Elizabeth insisted, "If we had more time with him…There was no reason for him to die."

"Permission to speak freely, ma'am?" D's eyes darkened to a stormy gray.

"Go ahead," Elizabeth nodded shortly.

"That's bullshit!" D erupted from her seat, "You forced something on him that he did not want. You lied to him, would've continued lying to him if he hadn't discovered the truth on his own. You took his life away from him under the misguided belief that you were _improving _him. How the fuck do you think you were going to help him adjust to that?"

"Kate could've-" Elizabeth took a small step back.

"Kate has never been strapped to a gurney," D's fists clenched at her sides, her hoarse voice twisting cruelly as she continued, "Kate has never had needles shoved into her veins by a doctor 'for her own good'. Kate has never felt the excruciating pain of her DNA being twisted and changed. Kate does not now nor will she ever understand what it feels like to be unmade," D pointed at angry finger at Elizabeth when she opened her mouth to reply, "Do _not _tell me it isn't the same, Elizabeth. It is _exactly_ the same. The only difference was what we were to begin with. Dr. James made a human into an angel. Dr. Beckett made a Wraith into a human. One changed out of love, one changed out of fear. I gave Michael the same choice that I and so many others were given. Adapt or die. I chose to adapt, he chose to die," D took a steadying breath, purposely relaxing her hands at her sides once more, "I wanted him to live. Not because of Carson's experiment or because we were the same. I wanted him to live because he had so much potential. He was the first to ask the right questions. He was smart and funny and sweet. I wanted him to live and I killed him anyway. That was his choice and I respect that, even if I don't agree with it."

"Not who you are," Elizabeth spoke quietly, dropping her eyes to study the laptop screen, "but what you are. You tried to tell me, didn't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," D agreed softly, "The _who_ can change – has changed many times, will change many more. The _what_ never can. Michael was never going to be what you wanted him to be."

"Damn it," Elizabeth swore, slumping back down in her chair, "Where did we go wrong?"

"When you decided to lie to him, ma'am," D answered gently, "And when you decided not to seek counsel from the one person in this City who could've told you what to expect."

"_Je tentais de vous protéger_," Elizabeth looked up at D sadly, "_Je ne l'ai pas - ne le faites pas - que vous souhaitez être blessé._" [French: I was trying to protect you.] [French: I didn't – don't – want you to be hurt.]

"Elizabeth," D sighed, irises fading back to ash as she stared at the other woman, "_Je voulais vous protéger, et non l'inverse. Vous ne pouvez pas changer le passé, mais vous pouvez apprendre de lui._" [French: I am meant to protect you, not the other way around. You can't change the past, but you can learn from it.]

"_Je sais_," Elizabeth reached forward to close the laptop, "_Mais si je le pouvais, je le ferais_." [French: I know.] [French: But if I could, I would.]

"_Je ne voudrais pas, madame_," D inclined her head. [French: I wouldn't, ma'am.]

"This isn't going to go away," Elizabeth straightened in her chair, "There will be an official report filed."

"I expected as much, ma'am," D agreed easily, "I take full responsibility for what happened. My actions were mine and mine alone. I will accept any punishment deemed necessary."

"The IOA isn't going to let this go either," Elizabeth rubbed the fingers of one hand over her temple, "Both your actions and Dr. Beckett's retrovirus experiments."

"I _am _sorry that my actions will cause you difficulties, ma'am," D said sincerely, "That was never my intention. I do have a suggestion on how to deal with the IOA when it comes to the retrovirus…if you are still willing to listen."

"I am, but not right now," Elizabeth interlaced her fingers over her desk, "Dr. Vaughn, you are suspended from duty for three days. I'm not going to confine you to quarters, but you are barred from all labs, all of the gym facilities, and all critical areas, minus the infirmary, until your suspension is complete. You are ordered to comply with all instructions given to you by the medical staff with regards to the injuries you received the past two days. I want a written report in my inbox in two hours, detailing your time with Michael as much as possible, without further compromising classified information. _Avez-vous encore l'intention de ... sortir de sa cachette_?" [French: Do you still intend to…come out of hiding?]

"_Je fais_, madame," D nodded, "_Au moins partiellement. Une couverture appropriée a déjà été ajouté à mon dossier personnel_." [French: I do, ma'am.] [French: At least partially. An appropriate cover has already been added to my personnel file.]

"In that case," Elizabeth continued, "When you do return to duty, I expect you to act in accordance to your new title. Are my terms clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head.

"New job, Dr. Vaughn?" John wondered curiously.

"Not quite new title," D moved around the desk, reaching behind John to retrieve her gun from the back of his pants, "Same job."

"You could've just asked for the gun back," John rolled his eyes, "What's the not-quite-new title then?"

"It's my gun, Sheppard," D ejected the empty magazine as she walked back around the desk. She set the clip in the empty space on Elizabeth's desk and reached into her coat pocket to retrieve a full magazine. She slid it into place with a quiet click, then holstered the weapon, "CIA Operations Officer," D lifted her jacket from the back of the chair and slipped it on, zipping it up halfway before she slid the empty magazine into a pocket, "Since the threat presented to Elizabeth by the Trust has been mostly eliminated, I decided it was time to resume some of my former authority. I trust you will inform your men of this new development?"

"Is this because of what happened with Lt. Burns and Cpl. Tyler?" John narrowed his eyes, "They're not your responsibility, they're mine."

"Then perhaps you can remind them of the consequences of neglecting their duties, Colonel," D smiled sharply, "Because we both know they won't enjoy the lesson if I have to teach them."

"I like my men in one piece, Officer Vaughn," John drawled lazily, "If it's all the same to you, I'll deal with them myself."

"See that you do, Colonel," D turned back to Elizabeth, "If that's all, ma'am, I'd like to get started on my report."

"You're dismissed," Elizabeth gestured to the door, "I'll see you in three days."

John waited until the door closed behind D before he turned to Elizabeth.

"CIA?" John raised an eyebrow.

"It's all in her personnel file," Elizabeth shrugged.

"Since when?" John snorted, "When Rodney checked, there wasn't much there."

"Apparently there is now," Elizabeth replied easily.


	65. Friends and Family

Teyla set aside her book when her door chime sounded, walking over to wave the door open. Ronon stood in the hallway, a neat line of stitches at the center of a dark purple bruise high on his cheekbone and a pale white cast covering his left forearm. He shifted on his feet, but stayed silent as he stared at Teyla.

After a moment, she stepped to the side, motioning him inside and waving the door closed behind him. She moved around him, settling back onto one side of the couch and picking up her book to continue reading as he sat down next to her. They sat together in silence for several minutes before Ronon leaned over, curling onto his side and laying his head gently on Teyla's lap when she lifted her arms. Teyla rubbed his shoulder idly with one hand, still holding the leather bound book with the other.

They stayed that way, neither of them saying anything, for nearly half an hour until Ronon finally broke the silence.

"I hit D," Ronon started hesitantly.

"I saw the bruise on her face," Teyla replied easily, "It matches yours."

"She hit me back," Ronon rolled onto his back, tilting his head to look up at Teyla.

"I assumed as much," Teyla marked her place in her book and set it aside, "Do you wish to tell me why?"

"I hate Wraith," Ronon declared firmly, "I want every single one of them to die. I want to kill them all."

"Those feelings are understandable," Teyla laid her hand on Ronon's chest, "Given what you have experienced because of them."

"I thought…" Ronon trailed off, a scowl forming on his face.

"You thought what, Ronon?" Teyla prompted.

"I thought she was defending him," Ronon grumbled.

"Instead of you?" Teyla asked shrewdly, "You thought she was choosing Michael over you."

"Maybe," Ronon admitted reluctantly, "But…"

"But you do not think so now," Teyla finished for him.

"She let me hit her," Ronon shifted uncomfortably, "Let me cut her. She could've stopped me anytime. She wasn't mad that I hurt her."

"May I tell you what I think?" Teyla inquired calmly.

Ronon nodded.

"I believe that D takes her job very seriously," Teyla stated evenly, "No matter what obligations or responsibilities she has, she wishes to fulfill them to the best of her ability. I believe in her mind, you were interfering with the completion of her duties. She knows that you have great anger for the Wraith and she would never try to make you feel otherwise. I believe she was not angry with you because you attacked Michael, but because you did not consider the consequences before you did so."

Ronon only grunted in response.

"You say she let you hurt her," Teyla stared down at Ronon, "And you say she could have stopped you at any time. Tell me, why do you think she did not?"

"Dunno," Ronon shrugged.

"Yes, you do," Teyla scolded gently, "You carry so much rage over what the Wraith did to you that it cannot help but spill over at some point. She let you hurt her so you would not hurt anyone else. Would you not do the same?"

An uneasy frown formed on Ronon's face.

"She is _ohana nui _to you, Ronon," Teyla pressed, "She calls you little brother. The two of you have made it clear, in your own ways, that you care for each other as family. Would you not help her in any way you could?"

"I would," Ronon's frown deepened, "She wouldn't let me kill him. But she did."

"She did," Teyla hesitated, "I…"

"You don't know why either?" Ronon studied Teyla's face.

"No, I do not understand her reasoning," Teyla sighed softly, "She claims it was what he wanted, but I do not want to believe that he would choose death over life."

"Was Michael Wraith?" Ronon asked carefully.

"No, he was not Wraith," Teyla shook her head.

"Was he human?" Ronon questioned.

"I…" Teyla faltered, "…I do not know. I thought he was but…perhaps I was only seeing what I wanted to see."

"Okay," Ronon rolled back to his side, "I'm not gonna apologize for attacking him."

"I do not think anyone is expecting you to," Teyla started rubbing Ronon's shoulder again.

"Teyla?" Ronon looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes?" Teyla picked up her book again.

"You are _kaikuaʻana_," Ronon informed her seriously, "To us both."

"_Kaikua'ana_?" Teyla asked curiously.

"It means…" Ronon paused to search for the right words, "It means 'elder sister who is to be respected'."

"While that is a lovely sentiment," Teyla laughed warmly and swatted Ronon's arm, "I am not that much older than you, Ronon."

"Still older," Ronon grinned as he closed his eyes.

"If you fall asleep on my lap, _kunane_," Teyla opened her book, the warm smile still on her face, "I will push you onto the floor when I get up."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

Rodney stomped across the pier, muttering angrily under his breath as neared the end. D was sitting a couple feet from the edge, facing out towards the ocean. Her long hair hung in loose waves down to the center of her back, the light breeze making the burgundy strands shimmer slightly as they caught the soft light from the two full moons. She wore an off-white sweater that was clearly too big for her, even from what little Rodney could see of it. Nemesis was curled around D's back and the gray cat lifted her head lazily to glance at Rodney before laying back down with a quiet huff.

"You're not answering your radio," Rodney snapped.

"Nope," D drew out the word, popping the 'p' obnoxiously.

"I've been trying to call you for an hour," Rodney continued in his annoyed tone, "Why don't you have your radio on?"

"Left it in my room," D answered easily.

"What if there's an emergency?" Rodney huffed.

"Is there?" D questioned.

"No," Rodney admitted, "But-"

"Then go away," D interrupted.

"I would," Rodney crossed his arms over his chest, "Except the City keeps shoving ice feathers into my brain and it's giving me a migraine."

"Huh?" D turned her head slightly, hair half covering her face as she eyed Rodney curiously.

"Atlantis," Rodney waved a hand back in the general direction of the buildings behind them, "I've been trying to run a simulation for the past hour. Except I can't seem to finish it because all I can concentrate on is the sensation of ice feathers in my brain. So whatever you're doing, stop doing it so I can run my simulation without further interference."

"I wasn't…" there was a loud clink of glass hitting metal and D tipped precariously to the side. She slapped a palm to the pier several times and scowled down at the cool metal as she spoke, "I said I was fine. If I wanted company I'd go find some. Not cool, you…you interfering, over-protective wench."

"Did you…" Rodney's jaw dropped, "Did you just call Atlantis an 'interfering, over-protective wench'?"

"Yes," D slapped the pier a final time and straightened.

Rodney narrowed his eyes at D as he moved closer. He stepped over Nemesis' tail and looked down to see a large glass bottle sitting in front of D, a mostly black label across the front and less than three inches worth of amber liquid left in the bottom.

"Are you drunk?" Rodney asked incredulously.

D picked up the bottle, taking a long swallow before she answered.

"No," D eyed the amber liquid sloshing in the bottle for about ten seconds before she looked up at Rodney, "Nope, not drunk."

"Was that full when you started drinking?" Rodney pointed a finger at the bottle.

"Yup," D nodded.

"Then you're definitely drunk," Rodney snorted.

"I am not," D's nose scrunched up, "I have an extremely high tolerance for alcohol."

"I'm sure you do," Rodney rolled his eyes as he sat down next to D, "You're sitting alone," Nemesis smacked Rodney in the thigh with her tail, "_Mostly_ alone on the pier, drinking…" Rodney leaned over slightly to read the label on the bottle, "Drinking scotch straight from the bottle and wearing…" Rodney waved a hand at the knee length white skirt, trimmed with a neat lace pattern, "a white skirt. Should I call Carson now or wait until you finish the bottle? Because you have _clearly_ been replaced by a pod person or been taken over by an alien consciousness or turned into a replicator or _something_."

"It's a dress," D frowned at Rodney.

"It's white," Rodney gave her a flat look.

"So?" D's frown deepened.

"So I thought everything you owned was either black or uniform gray," Rodney replied cautiously, "Seeing you in white is…weird."

"White is clean," D responded softly, her frown giving way to a weary expression.

"Black's not clean?" Rodney asked, confusion clear in his voice.

"It's easier to hide bloodstains on black," D took another pull from the bottle, "Easier to hide in the shadows wearing black. Easier to blend into the background. Black stopped being clean a long time ago. I wanted to be clean today."

"Uh," Rodney shifted uncomfortably, "Okay?"

"Never mind," D sighed and set the bottle back down, "I'm sitting here because I've been suspended from duty for three days. Dr. Weir also banned me from the labs, the gyms, and all the critical areas of the City. So I really don't have anything else to do for the next two and a half days besides think. Which I'm beginning to suspect might have been the point of my suspension. I am drinking _mostly alone_ because I'd rather _not_ be thinking. But unfortunately, my brain doesn't seem to want to shut down, even with copious amounts of semi-decent scotch in my system."

"You got suspended?" Rodney gaped, "For _what_?"

D blinked at Rodney several times.

"Seriously?" D asked skeptically, "You didn't hear what happened?"

"I've been in my lab all day," Rodney said defensively, "Working on important things."

"I killed Michael," D blurted out the words, "Stabbed him in the heart. Twisted the knife to destroy the heart muscle beyond repair. Then I severed both carotid arteries to make sure the doctors couldn't figure out a way to save him."

Rodney started spluttering and suddenly choked on nothing but air. D picked up the bottle and offered it to him. Rodney accepted the drink, but the mouthful he managed to swallow only made him cough harder.

By the time Rodney managed to get himself under control, D had a carefully blank expression on her face and was staring at the pier in front of her.

"Ummm," Rodney flushed red, "Was it…Did you…?"

"Yes, I did it on purpose," D replied blandly, "No, not because he was trying to escape. He had already surrendered to me when I killed him."

"Okay…" Rodney fidgeted where he sat, "Uhhh…"

"You can leave if you want, Dr. McKay," D offered flatly, "I won't be offended."

"So you're-" Rodney stopped abruptly, a scowl forming on his face when he continued, "You're getting drunk by yourself because…you feel guilty?"

"_Je se saouler parce que je ne me sens pas coupable_," D closed her eyes and tilted her head back with a sigh, "_Parce que je ne vais pas être propre jamais, peu importe ce que je fais_." [French: I'm getting drunk because I _don't_ feel guilty.] [French: Because I won't be clean ever again, no matter what I do.]

"English, Red," Rodney demanded.

"I'm getting drunk because my brain is wired strangely," D opened her eyes to stare at the stars above them, "And I'm out here with Nem because she doesn't look at me like there's something wrong with me. Everyone I associate with here is either pissed off or horrified or terrified. And it's only been twelve hours. It's going to get worse when the rumors start spreading."

"Ronon-" Rodney started.

"We sort of beat the shit out of each other last night," D tipped her head forward and lifted the bottle to her lips to drink, "There were knives involved. And I kind of broke his wrist a little bit. And we both ended up with fractured jaws."

"How can you…" Rodney rolled his eyes, "Never mind. Teyla?"

"Horrified," D shook her head, "And pissed I think."

"Elizabeth?" Rodney suggested, "Carson?"

"Very pissed," D snorted and took another drink, "Mostly terrified and a little bit horrified."

"Sheppard?" Rodney tried.

"Pissed," D's face scrunched up again, "And I think he mostly only tolerates me for Elizabeth's sake anyway."

"There has to be someone," Rodney insisted.

"Nope," D shrugged, "I don't really spend time with anyone else socially. Besides you, I mean. And I'm pretty sure that if Atlantis wasn't meddling you wouldn't be here. Or if you'd seen the security footage."

"Wait a minute…" Rodney stared at D for a long minute, "Am I the only friend you're on speaking terms with right now?"

"Um," a pale pink blush spread over D's cheeks, "Maybe? I don't really have…Are we friends?"

"I guess?" Rodney replied awkwardly, "I mean, if you want to be friends, we could be?"

"Oh," D blinked at Rodney again, "Sure, okay."

"Okay," Rodney repeated.

"You're a still a little terrified of me, aren't you?" D asked uncertainly.

"You just admitted to stabbing a guy to death," Rodney pointed out, "I think fear is a perfectly normal human reaction on my part."

"Yeah, I suppose it is," D fiddled with the nearly empty bottle, "I probably wouldn't stab you though. If that makes you feel any better."

"Probably?" Rodney questioned suspiciously, "You _probably_ wouldn't stab me?"

"Well, if Elizabeth ordered me to I would," D shrugged, "But I don't think she would, so…probably not, yeah."

"Gee, thanks," Rodney snarked, "Good to know you would only stab me to death under orders."

"Rodney?" D tipped over sideways to lean against his shoulder.

"What now?" Rodney asked warily.

"I might be a little drunk," D admitted quietly.

"I told you that five minutes ago," Rodney rolled his eyes again, "Idiot."

"She's getting stronger, you know," D said breezily.

"Who Nemesis?" Rodney wondered curiously.

"No, jackass," D snorted, "Well, yes, her too I suppose. But I was talking about the City. It's getting easier to understand what she wants. Her consciousness or whatever you want to call it is getting stronger."

"I noticed," Rodney agreed, "What with the ice feathers being stuffed into the base of my skull for an hour."

"I'm not sure if her being stronger is a good thing or not," D continued, "Since she seems to be getting her own ideas about how things here should operate."

"You mean she's turning into an interfering, over-protective wench?" Rodney smirked.

"She totally is," D half-whined, "She keeps telling Carson where to find people when they get hurt. And I'm pretty sure I was clear about the whole 'I'd like to sit alone on the pier and enjoy my scotch and the moonlight by myself' thing and yet here you are."

"I can go," Rodney stiffened, "If you don't want me to be here."

"Shut up, Rodney," D starting poking him in the leg with a single finger, "I was trying to make a point."

"Your point?" Rodney relaxed again as he slapped D's hand away to stop her from poking him.

"My point," D huffed, "was that the AI is getting stronger. Have you made any progress figuring her out?"

"Yes and no," Rodney responded easily, "I've been able to locate several of the circuits and crystals that house her AI programming, but I haven't figured out how it got there. I've got the data on my laptop, if you want to come take a look."

"I'm barred from the labs," D reminded him.

"It's in my quarters," Rodney waved a dismissive hand in the air, "If you and your hell-beast promise not to fall asleep in my room, I suppose my simulations could wait until tomorrow."

"You keep calling her a hell-beast," D looked up at Rodney seriously, "but I've seen you sneaking her bacon in the mess."

"I have not!" Rodney argued indignantly, "I wouldn't waste perfectly good food like that."

"Sure, Rodney," D smirked, "Whatever you say."

"You are so annoying," Rodney grumbled as he stood, "Come on, Red, before I change my mind."


	66. Changes

"Absolutely not," Rodney insisted, shoving a bite of eggs into his mouth as he continued, "We can't just start pulling pieces out and hope we get the right ones."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," D ordered lightly, crossing one leg over the other as she settled them onto the chair in front of her, "I'm not talking about pulling crystals at random. I'm talking about asking the City to point us in the right direction. If she's aware enough to know what's going on, then simply asking her would be the quickest way to locate all the appropriate crystals."

Rodney glared at D pointedly as he finished chewing and swallowed loudly.

"First of all," Rodney started, "You can't be one hundred percent certain that she'll understand what we want."

"I'm about ninety-two percent certain I can make her understand," D interjected, "Especially if I connect via the control chair."

"That still leaves an eight percent chance that you can't," Rodney argued, "And even just initializing the control chair requires enormous amounts of power. I don't see how I'd be able to justify the power usage and still be able to keep it a secret."

"Keep what a secret?" John set his breakfast tray down in the empty space across from Rodney.

"Morning, Colonel Sheppard," D glanced over as John sat down, "Keep Rosie a secret."

"Rosie?" John looked between Rodney and D curiously, "Is that the new geologist the SGC sent us last month?"

"Who cares about geologists?" Rodney gave John a baleful look, "She means Rosie the Robot from The Jetsons."

"If you really wanted to keep it a secret, Rodney," D sipped her coffee, "We wouldn't be discussing it in the mess."

"We're on the balcony," Rodney waved a hand around them, "There's hardly anyone around."

"Still public," D pointed out, "And your loud voice has a tendency to carry over long distances."

"You're just cranky because I made you get out of bed while you're still hungover," Rodney snorted.

"You're hungover?" John eyed D warily, "I didn't think you drank anything alcoholic."

"I only drink when I'm not working, which is a very rare thing for me," D turned to scowl at Rodney, "I am not hungover. A hangover implies that I drank more than I could handle, which I most certainly did not do."

"If you say so," Rodney smirked.

"Don't change the subject, jackass," D swiped a piece of bacon from Rodney's tray, "I'm sure you can get around the whole power requirement thing."

"Even if I could," Rodney continued as D crunched on the bacon, "And I'm not saying I can, but _if _I could, you can't be sure she'll tell us the truth about which crystals we need. Or if she does, that we'll be able to understand and interpret whatever she says to even get to the right ones."

"I'm about eighty-three percent certain I'll be able to understand her," D grinned and took another sip of coffee, "Besides, you really think she'll pull a HAL?"

"Are you talking about the AI?" John stopped mid-bite to look up at Rodney.

"Of course we are," Rodney snarked, "What else would we be talking about?"

"You can't name her after a 1960s cartoon, Rodney," John groaned, "What did we say about naming things?"

"It was either Rosie the Robot or Marvin the Paranoid Android," D shrugged and reached for Rodney's tray again.

"Stop stealing my food," Rodney smacked D's hand away, "Go get your own."

"I'm not hungry," D insisted.

"If you're not hungry, then why are you stealing my bacon?" Rodney questioned.

"Because it annoys you," D smiled brightly.

"I should've just taken a couple tylenol," Rodney huffed, "She would've given up eventually."

"Maybe, maybe not. She's pretty persistent," D's smile faded and she dropped her feet back to the floor as Teyla and Ronon approached the table, "Morning, Specialist Dex, Ms. Emmagan."

"Good morning," Teyla greeted as she set her tray down and sat next to John, across from D.

Ronon thunked his tray down next to D but stayed standing, staring down at D.

"Ronon…" D hesitated, "I…"

"I'm not sorry," Ronon crossed his arms over his chest.

"Neither am I," D held his stare.

Ronon murmured something quietly in Satedan that had D's expression softening.

"Whenever you need," D replied softly, "All you have to do is ask."

"You too, _kuahine_," Ronon bent to press a quick kiss to D's temple before he sat down.

"You speak Satedan now?" Rodney wondered.

"Mostly," D nodded, "There are still a few things I still need to learn, but I know enough to make myself understood. My Satedan is a lot better than my Athosian though. The Athosian language in its non-gate-translated form is proving…challenging."

"That is why it is customary among my people to learn both Athosian and the Pegasus trade language from a very young age," Teyla looked at the coffee cup in front of D, "Are you not eating breakfast this morning?"

"She's been stealing bacon off my tray," Rodney scowled at D, "Even though she says she's not hungry."

"You should eat," Teyla insisted, "Your tendency to skip meals is not a healthy habit."

"I'll be fine, Teyla," D responded easily, "I'm on suspension for the next two days anyway, so it's not like I have to worry about a schedule. I can eat whenever I get hungry."

"Would you like to share my meal?" Teyla offered, "There is more than enough for both of us."

"I'll get something later," D shook her head, "Thank you for the offer."

"I told her," Ronon spoke around a mouthful of pancakes.

"Told her what?" D raised an eyebrow at Ronon.

"Why doesn't he get yelled at for talking with his mouth full?" Rodney grumbled.

"That she was _kaikua'ana_," Ronon grinned.

"Oh," D shifted nervously in her chair.

"What does that mean?" John wondered.

"That doesn't mean I'm going to listen to you," D stuck her lower lip out.

"What?" Rodney questioned, "What's going on? What are you talking about?"

"You do not have to listen to me, _kaina_," Teyla smiled serenely, "But I will be disappointed if you refuse my offer of a shared meal." [Hawaiian: younger sister.]

"Asshole," D kicked Ronon's chair before she plastered a polite smile on her face, "I would be honored to share your meal, _kua'ana_."

"That pleases me greatly," Teyla tipped her head graciously and slid her tray forward so D could reach.

"I don't get it," Rodney looked between the three of them.

"Never mind, Rodney," D picked up a brightly colored fruit from Teyla's tray, "Back to the point I was trying to make before we got side-tracked, I think it's relatively safe to pull a few crystals. I really don't think she's going to pull a HAL."

"Probably not," Rodney admitted, "But she may not even know what we're looking for."

"It's doesn't hurt to ask," D bit into the fruit.

"I'm not even sure _I _know what we're looking for," Rodney drained the last of his coffee cup, "There might not be anything to find."

"Don't you want to find out for sure?" D smirked.

"Fine," Rodney relented, "I'll talk to Elizabeth and see if I can work something out."

"If you want my help, it'll have to be next week," D reminded him, "I'm not allowed in critical areas during my suspension and my schedule is full the four days after that."

"Who said I wanted your help?" Rodney reached over to grab D's coffee cup and took a large gulp, "Gah. How much sugar did you put in this?"

"Don't drink my coffee," D tried to retrieve the cup but Rodney held it out of her reach, "Give it back."

John rolled his eyes as Rodney took another sip from the cup, slurping loudly as he did so.

"This is what happens when you steal my bacon," Rodney insisted haughtily, taking a final sip before he handed the cup back, "Here."

D frowned down into the half-full mug, "Well, I can't drink it _now_," D looked back up at Rodney, a slight pout on her face, "It's been contaminated by Rodney cooties."

"What are _cooties_?" Teyla asked curiously.

"Sounds dangerous," Ronon leaned over to look into the cup.

"Cooties aren't-" Rodney started.

"Very dangerous," John nodded seriously, "The McKay variant of cooties is one of the most deadly strains known to Earth."

"Is there a cure?" Teyla wondered.

"There's no-" Rodney tried.

"There's no cure," D interrupted swiftly, "But the condition can be treated by a daily medicine called a 'cootie shot'. It keeps the cooties at bay, but once you're infected, there's no going back."

"Better put it down," Ronon leaned back, "Shouldn't risk it."

"Are you serious right now?" Rodney gaped at the people around the table.

"You're absolutely right, _kunane_," D set the cup down, nudging it back towards Rodney with one finger, "A cooties infection could seriously affect my job performance."

"I do not have cooties!" Rodney shouted.

"I wonder how far your voice carried that time," D grinned widely, "I'm pretty sure everyone in the mess heard you, but maybe you should yell again to make sure."

"I hate you," Rodney declared, "So much."

"No, you don't," D leaned over to kiss Rodney's cheek as she stood, "I'm going to get some food. I'll bring you another cup of coffee."

"Yes, I do," Rodney called after D as she walked away, "Bring bacon too."

Rodney looked over to see Ronon and Teyla eyeing him cautiously.

"What?" Rodney asked warily, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"She kissed your cheek," Ronon stated evenly.

"So?" Rodney's cheeks flushed.

"Is she not concerned about the cooties?" Teyla inquired carefully.

John smothered a laugh as Rodney threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"Do you know why Dr. Grant is requesting a transfer off of AR-6?" Elizabeth asked without looking away from her laptop.

"Yes, ma'am," D stepped into the center of Elizabeth's office.

Elizabeth frowned slightly at the short response, "Do _I_ want to know why?"

"Probably not, ma'am," D admitted.

"Is it something that can be worked out?" Elizabeth questioned, "Dr. Grant is one of our better negotiators and she works well with Lt. Young."

"That would be why she's requesting a transfer, ma'am," D responded carefully, "Tommy's not sure he can be objective when it comes to Nora's safety."

"And since it's his team," Elizabeth tapped a couple keys, "it's easier if she requests the transfer. I'll approve the request then."

"Yes, ma'am," D stated calmly, "I'll talk to Major Lorne about finding her a slot in a different team."

"D," Elizabeth finally looked up, "Stop ma'am-ing me."

"Sorry, Dr. Weir," D winced, "It's a reflex."

"Your suspension is over," Elizabeth said gently, "You're not in trouble. I'm not mad."

"You were," D replied quietly.

"I was," Elizabeth agreed, "But not at you. At the entire situation."

"I caused the situation," D ducked her head.

"Not by yourself," Elizabeth disagreed, "There were many people at fault, including me. I approved the experiment and I ignored council from people I trust. I should have listened to you and Teyla."

"The retrovirus had to be tested at some point, Elizabeth," D looked up at Elizabeth again, "I assume a full report has already been sent to the IOA?"

"It has," Elizabeth sighed, "I haven't heard back from them yet."

"I doubt you will any time soon," D spoke hesitantly, "I sent a proposal to your inbox first thing this morning."

"I saw," Elizabeth nodded, "I don't think Carson will agree."

"Probably not, ma'am," D responded evenly, "If you forward the proposal to the IOA and they agree, which is a likely scenario given their collective self-preservation instincts, Dr. Beckett's work would already be done. His background is in genetics and surgery. A biochemistry and engineering team would be better suited."

"I'm don't think I'm ready to consider creating biological weapons," Elizabeth shook her head, "With more time, Carson might be able to refine the retrovirus. It's possible he can continue his experiment at a later date."

"Working on one project does not prohibit the other," D pointed out, "Humans are easier to kill than Wraith and we need every advantage we can get. The retrovirus can be weaponized as it is now and Dr. Beckett can continue working on a more permanent solution. Also, you said yourself, the IOA isn't going to let this go. If you offer this alternative, they'll be more willing to give Carson the time he needs to make it work, rather than forcing all of us into another Michael situation."

"I'll discuss it with Carson," Elizabeth decided, "I'm not forwarding the proposal to anyone until I get his opinion on it."

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head.

"So…" Elizabeth looked over D, "Is this going to be your new look then?"

The younger woman wore a plain black, long-sleeved pullover with her thumbs stuck through the holes in the cuffs and the short zipper pulled up to the base of her throat. The black straps of her gun holster were tightened around the gray fabric of her uniform pants and there were two thick braid from her temples to the nape of her neck, joining into one large braid down her back, her bangs still swept neatly to one side.

"My look?" D tilted her head to the side.

"No uniform jacket," Elizabeth gestured, "Hair not in a bun, a gun that may or may not have bullets in it."

"It has bullets in it this time," D claimed.

"And the rest?" Elizabeth wondered.

D looked down at herself, then back up at Elizabeth curiously.

"Is there something wrong with the way I'm dressed?" D asked cautiously, "I can go change if you want."

"No, you can wear whatever you like," Elizabeth smiled gently, "Within reason. I'm just curious."

"Now that most everyone knows I carry knives," D explained carefully, "I don't need the jacket to hide the holster at the back of my belt anymore. Not wearing the jacket allows easier access to my preferred weapons. I still prefer long-sleeves though," D looked down to the cuffs, "and the thumbholes are comfortable. My gun holster and gun were designed specifically for me by an old associate of mine," D tapped a finger to her gun, "I carry a customized Glock 27 instead of the standard issue nine millimeter because I like a larger caliber bullet but I have smaller hands. It has a nine round .40 caliber magazine capacity, but the gun's not so big that it's awkward for me to hold," D looked back up at Elizabeth again, "And my hair…well…It was sort of…"

"Your hair?" Elizabeth prompted.

"Ronon told Teyla she was _kaikua'ana_ to us," D huffed out a breath, "It means 'elder sister who is to be respected'. She's been taking advantage of the 'to be respected' part and taking her familial obligations way too seriously. She said she wanted to practice her braiding skills and Ronon's hair obviously doesn't braid very well so I kind of volunteered to be her test subject. She made me eat breakfast – clean my entire tray – and then she did my hair. While we were sitting in the mess. It was embarrassing."

"I'm sure you were traumatized by the experience," Elizabeth bit back her smile, "Would you like me to schedule you an appointment with Dr. Heightmeyer?"

D scowled at Elizabeth and opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by the sound of the Stargate activating.

"_Incoming wormhole_," Chuck shouted.

"The braid suits you," Elizabeth stood and moved around her desk, "I like it."

"I'm sure Teyla would be happy to do your hair as well, ma'am," D replied dryly, falling into step next to Elizabeth, "Just meet her for breakfast tomorrow."


	67. Circuits

"How's it feel?" Carson asked, gritting his teeth as the lights above him flickered on and off.

Ronon held his left arm in front of him, rotating his hand back and forth slowly as Carson watched.

"Feels fine," Ronon declared.

"There's no soreness at all?" Carson took Ronon's arm, bending it back towards his body then forward again, "Full range of motion?"

"Doesn't hurt," Ronon shook his head.

"All right," Carson moved over to the nearby table to pick up a tablet, studying the screen silently for a moment, "Your scan indicates both fractures are healing quite nicely. You're a very lucky man, Ronon. If you were anywhere else, you'd still be in a cast. Having you come in once a day and use the healing wand has cut your recovery time in half."

"I still have to come in?" Ronon wondered.

"No, I'm clearing you for active duty as of today," Carson set the tablet down and looked over to Ronon, "But you still have to take it easy with that arm. The bones will be a bit weaker than normal for at least another month or two."

"Sure, Doc," Ronon hopped off the gurney.

"I'm serious, Ronon," Carson gave him a stern look, "The fractures have healed, but the bone is still weak, especially with the accelerated healing. If you end up in my infirmary with another broken arm because you were fighting with D again, you will be healing the slow way. Got it?"

"We worked it out," Ronon assured him, "Just regular sparring from now on. Unless something bad happens."

"Well, that's…" Carson sighed, "The best I'm going to get, I suppose. Try to keep something bad from happening for at least two months, okay lad?"

"I'll try," Ronon looked up to the ceiling as the lights flickered.

"Only an hour, my arse," Carson muttered as he tapped his earpiece, "Rodney, this is Carson."

"_What_?" Rodney questioned, "_I'm busy. Unless it's important, call Zelenka_."

"You told me your little project would only take an hour," Carson's eye twitched as the lights flickered again, "It's been three. The lights in my infirmary are still flickering. Is whatever you're doing going to take much longer?"

There was some angry Russian in the background of Rodney's radio followed by a soft thump and the sound of Rodney cursing under his breath.

"Rodney?" Carson asked evenly.

"_It's fine. I'm fine_," Rodney grumbled, "_Just dropped a…I see it. It's right there. Can you reach?" _

_"_Rodney," Carson repeated patiently, "How long?"

"_As long as it takes Carson_," Rodney snapped, "_Probably at least another two hours_," Rodney paused and there was more angry cursing in the background, "_Better make that three hours. Red's still cussing in Russian and…Farsi, apparently. It'll go faster if you stop interrupting us_._ Don't call unless it an emergency._"

Carson reached up to tap his earpiece off without saying goodbye, "Rude little bugger. Who the hell is Rosie?"

"They're working on the City," Ronon informed him.

"And it's important, I know," Carson huffed angrily, "But the lights are starting to get on my nerves."

"No," Ronon shook his head and pointed up to the ceiling, "The _City_. They named her Rosie."

"Oh, you mean…" Carson looked around to make sure no one was close before he continued quietly, "You mean the AI? I didn't know Rodney had made any significant progress on that."

"They were talking about it a couple weeks ago," Ronon explained easily, "They're trying to find all her pieces. I helped them get into the floor earlier."

"Her pieces?" Carson wondered, "What pieces?"

"Dunno," Ronon shrugged.

"What kind of name is Rosie?" Carson frowned, "Why not just call her Atlantis?"

"It's from an old cartoon show on your planet," Ronon grinned, "McKay made us watch it last week. It has a talking dog called Astro. The robot cleans up after the family and takes care of them. They call her Rosie the Robot."

"Astro…" Carson spoke thoughtfully, a surprised expression on his face as he continued with a short laugh, "Oh, you must be talking about The Jetsons."

"Yeah, that's it," Ronon nodded, "Sheppard makes a weird face every time they call the City Rosie."

"Aye, I imagine he does," Carson laughed again, "But from what I remember of the show, the name suits her quite nicely," Carson looked up to the ceiling as the lights flickered again, "All right, Rosie. I'm sure whatever those silly people are doing to your circuits is uncomfortable, but if you cooperate with them, hopefully it'll be over soon. If it takes too much longer, you have my permission to give them a bit of a jolt. Just a little one, mind you, nothing too serious."

"Will talking to her help with the lights?" Ronon asked curiously, "Does she understand you?"

"I don't know if it'll help or not," Carson smiled wryly, "But I like to think she understands the gist of what I'm saying, if not the actual words. Either way, it makes me feel a little better to talk to her."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

John stopped and stared at the large handwritten sign leaning against a chair in the hallway. The familiar block letters read: _Dangerous experiment in progress. Area off-limits to all personnel. This means you!_

There was a young, dark-haired man leaning carelessly against the wall next to the chair, pressing buttons on a black gameboy. He was dressed casually in a pair of gray track pants and a dark blue tee shirt with a faded gray logo over the chest, a pair of scuffed, worn tennis shoes on his feet. The man looked up, pressing a button to pause his game when John shook his head at the sign.

"Evening, Colonel," the man greeted him.

"Kemp," John nodded in acknowledgment, "What are you doing here?"

"Saving Princess Peach, sir," Kemp answered easily.

"How's that going for you, Lieutenant?" John wondered.

"I'm just about to kick Mega Goomba's ass, sir," Kemp grinned widely.

"Any reason you're playing here in the hallway?" John drawled, "Instead of somewhere more comfortable?"

"There's a chair here, sir," Kemp pointed out, "Any time I get tired of standing, I can sit down and relax."

"Kemp," John cautioned.

"I like this spot, sir," Kemp responded carefully, "It tastes like cheeseburgers and fries here. And baked alaska."

"If I go see what McKay is doing," John sighed, "am I going to end up electrocuted?"

"Ummm," Kemp looked down the other direction in the hallway, "Maybe, sir? I haven't heard any yelling for the past half hour though, so you might be okay."

"All right, go back to saving the Princess, Lieutenant," John stepped around the chair, pausing to look at Kemp curiously, "Which one is which?"

"McKay is the meal," Kemp smirked, "Vaughn is the dessert."

"If you say so," John snorted and started walking again, "Wish me luck."

"Yell if they try to electrocute you, sir," Kemp called after him, "I'll mount a rescue mission."

John walked a short ways to the intersection and turned the corner to the left to see a large section of burnt-orange flooring propped up against the wall. There was an open tool kit and several tablets next to a hole in the floor, along with half a dozen silver cables coiled neatly next to a pile of flat crystals. John stepped closer to the edge, careful to avoid all the stuff on the floor as he peered down into the hole. He saw two sets of gray uniform covered legs – one wearing a small pair of black boots, the other a large pair of tennis shoes – disappearing into a square tunnel, the inner walls covered with circuits and crystals.

"That one doesn't go there," Rodney insisted, "It goes on the left."

"I put in on the left the first time," D grumbled, "You told me to move it."

"Because the other one had to go in first," Rodney retorted, "Not because it was in the wrong spot."

"Then maybe you should be clearer in your directions," D replied shortly, "Perhaps something other than 'that's wrong'? Or do it yourself next time."

"My hands don't fit in the tiny spaces over there," Rodney complained, "Obviously the Ancients didn't design these maintenance hatches for normal sized people."

One of the booted feet kicked to the side, impacting the shin next to it and Rodney grunted in pain.

"And by that, I mean," Rodney continued quickly, "Uhhh. Your hands are nice? That is to say…they're a good size for this type of work. Not that your hands are delicate or anything – or that delicate hands are a bad thing – they're just-"

"Oh my god," D's tone was both annoyed and amused, "Rodney. Just. Stop talking before you make it worse. Please."

"How's it going down there kids?" John asked brightly.

Rodney's body jerked slightly upwards and there was a dull thud, followed by some inventive cursing as he wiggled his way out of the tunnel. He was wearing one of his dark gray tee shirts, heavily wrinkled and smudged in several places with yellow-brownish grease. Rodney's head reappeared, hair wild and messy and one large smudge of grease across his cheek, as he directed an irritated scowl towards John.

"Sheppard," Rodney rubbed a hand over his forehead, "What are you doing here?"

"I need the last set of crystals," D announced, "And a pair of pliers."

"You missed lunch," John watched as Rodney gathered up the flat crystals next to his feet.

"Hold on…Let me…" Rodney scooted backward and handed the crystals to D, "Here. Don't put the last one in until I look at them."

"Yeah, yeah," D agreed, "Pliers?"

John reached down to pluck a tool from the tool box and held it down to Rodney.

"No, those are too big," Rodney shook his head and pulled the tool box closer to grab a smaller pair of needle nose pliers. He handed them to D, "Remember not-"

"To squeeze too hard or the crystal will shatter," D pushed on Rodney's thigh with one boot, "Eidetic memory and perfect recall, jackass. You only have to tell me once."

"Idiot," Rodney swore under his breath as he looked up at John again, "As you can see, we've been busy trying to find out how Rosie's program is stored."

"You also missed dinner," John dropped the pliers he was holding back into the toolbox, "The City's been twitchy for the past eight hours. I assume that's because you two have been messing around in her circuits down there for at least that long."

"Eight hours?" Rodney frowned.

"Eight hours?" D repeated, "Really?"

"There's no way…" Rodney trailed off as he looked down at his watch, "Huh. I guess it has been that long."

"No wonder you're so cranky," D snorted.

"I wasn't the one yelling Russian curses at inanimate objects," Rodney poked at D's leg, "Or dropping tools on people."

"The stupid thing got stuck in the other stupid thing," D protested hotly, "And I only dropped one _small_ screwdriver on your _back_ and only because _you_ wouldn't let me wipe the grease off my hands first."

"You wanted to wipe them on my shirt," Rodney threw his hands into the air, "And I already have back problems. Who knows what kind of damage you did to my spine?"

"Your shirt already had grease on it," D huffed, "Mine was still clean at the time. And the screwdriver only fell eighteen inches. I highly doubt it did any sort of permanent damage. Come look at these before I finish."

"Be right back," Rodney waved a hand at John as he turned. He crawled back into the tunnel, twisting so he was once more laying on his back next to D.

"I moved the stripey one to the front," D informed him, "And the one with the little dotty bits to the right side."

"'The thing in the thing'," Rodney mocked, "'The stripey one and the one with the little dotty bits.'"

"Being confined in such close quarters with you has _obviously_ caused a decline in my mental faculties," D deadpanned, "However, my descriptions were accurate enough that you knew exactly what I meant. Can I put the last crystal in now, Oh Mighty Rodney, Evil Genius Overlord of Ancient Technology or would you like to ridicule my word choices a bit longer?"

"You're a terrible minion," Rodney started moving back out of the tunnel, "Go ahead and finish."

"Thank you, Oh Mighty Overlord," D intoned, "It is my pleasure to do your bidding, Oh Mighty Overlord."

"All done?" John held out a hand to help Rodney out of the hole.

"Mostly," Rodney nodded, "We just need to put the cover back on the hatch then we can take everything back to my lab."

"Like you're really going to do any heavy lifting with your _bad back_," D emerged from the tunnel. Several long strands of hair had escaped her braid to fall around her face and neck and there was a smear of grease along the left side of her jaw. Her black tee shirt was much cleaner than Rodney's, but her hands were almost completely covered in the yellow-brown grease. She looked from her dirty hands to Rodney's shirt and smiled innocently.

"No," Rodney narrowed his eyes at her, "Don't even think about it. I'll tell Teyla and you'll get in trouble. She'll make you eat her soup again."

D pouted as she wiped her hands on her own shirt, cleaning the majority of the grease off before accepting John's offered hand and climbing out of the hole.

"Get your crap out of the way so we can put the panel back on," D ordered as she turned, yelling loudly as she continued, "Hey, Tim! I need your big, buff man muscles for a minute."

"Big, buff man muscles?" John repeated incredulously.

"Tim spends a lot of his free time in the gym," D turned back to John, "I've found that if you compliment his physique, it puts him in a good mood and he's more likely to agree to do what you want."

"You should've heard what she said to get him to agree to unofficial guard duty," Rodney snorted as he bent to close the toolbox and started stacking the tablets, "I'm pretty sure you could've created a whole sexual harassment seminar from just that speech."

"Rodney," D smirked at him, "That was barely even PG-13. Imagine what the R-rated version would be like."

"I really don't want to know," John drawled as Kemp appeared from around the corner, "What the Marines do in their free time is none of my business. They're not mine when they're off duty."

"You don't want to know what we do when we're not killing shit, sir?" Kemp grinned wickedly, "You're missing out. Work hard, play hard. That's my motto. Right, ma'am?"

"Oorah," D bumped Kemp's outstretched fist.

"Seriously?" Rodney gave the two of them a flat look.

"Move your crap, Rodney," D moved over to the burnt-orange floor panel, "Tim, grab the other side, would you?"

"Hold this, sir," Kemp handed his Gameboy to John and moved to the opposite side of the panel.

Rodney grabbed the last of the cords, balancing the tablets in his other arm and nudging the toolbox out of the way with his foot.

"Need help?" John offered.

"Nah, we got it," D took hold of the edge, "Ready?"

"Yeah," Kemp nodded, "Lift."

Kemp and D lifted the panel from the floor, flattening it out before D began moving backwards towards the hole in the floor. When they were even with the hole, they lowered the panel gently and it slid into place with a quiet click.

"I'll take the sign and the chair with me," Kemp accepted the Gameboy from John, "If you need any more volunteers, let me know. I know a couple guys with the gene that wouldn't mind helping out."

"Thanks, Tim," D called after him as he left. She bent to pick up the toolbox and took half the tablets from Rodney's hand, "I'll help you take all this back to your lab, but then I'm going to shower," D paused to eye Rodney, wrinkling her nose as she continued, "You should probably shower too."

"And eat," Rodney started down the hallway, John falling into step on one side and D on the other, "I wasn't hungry until someone pointed out I hadn't eaten since breakfast. Now I'm starving," Rodney looked over to John curiously, "Was that the reason you came down here? To tell me I missed lunch and dinner?"

"I wanted to let you know we're going off-world tomorrow," John replied easily, "We got another call from those people today. Elizabeth decided our team should go check it out in the morning."

"Why does it have to be us?" Rodney complained, "Can't some other team go? I have all this new data on the AI to go through."

"That makes half a dozen times they've dialed us," D spoke thoughtfully.

"That's what Chuck says," John nodded, "He says the signal we're receiving is from an Ancient facility. They're asking for help, so Elizabeth decided Rodney should go, which means the rest of the team goes too."

"An Ancient facility?" Rodney perked up, "I suppose the data will still be here when we get back tomorrow."

"Try not to blow up any planets this time, Rodney," D smirked at him.

"That was _one time_," Rodney whipped his head around to glare at her.


	68. Plotting

"It's an Aurora class warship," John declared easily, "Obviously the Ancients built more than one of them."

"Why didn't we become aware of it at the same time our sensors picked up the Aurora?" Elizabeth leaned forward in her chair.

"It's damaged," John explained, "Probably from the war with the Wraith."

"Beyond repair?" Elizabeth wondered.

"I don't know," John admitted, "Their scientists, or at least the folks who call themselves scientists, have been working on it for years but it's way out of their league. They know how to turn things on and off, but as far as fixing problems…"

"We still have all the technical specifications brought back from the Aurora," D offered.

"I told Rodney to take a look at them," John agreed, "but first I want him to fix the shield generator – build some goodwill with these people."

"Good idea," Elizabeth nodded, "Hopefully, we can establish an alliance with them. Do you think the Taranian leader would let an engineering team take a closer look at the ship?"

"Look at it – I don't see why not," John shrugged, "They've been pretty friendly so far. Take the ship…that's a different story."

"_Je me demande si nous pourrions obtenir les Taranians de convenir à une sorte de programme d'échange de travail ou de contrat de location_," D moved around the desk to Elizabeth's laptop, reaching over Elizabeth's arm to start typing, "_Nous fixons leur navire, ils nous ont laissé les utilisons_." [French: I wonder if we could get the Taranians to agree to some sort of work exchange program or lease agreement.] [French: We fix their ship, they let us use it.]

"_À quoi penses-tu_?" Elizabeth asked curiously. [French: What are you thinking?]

"_Avoir un navire que nous pouvons utiliser ici Pegasus serait un grand avantage_," D finished typing and leaned a hip against Elizabeth's desk, "_Si nous négocions pour l'utilisation du navire, à la place du navire lui-même, IOA ne pouvait pas commander de retour sur Terre pour leur utilisation_. [French: Having a ship that we can use here Pegasus would be a great advantage] [French: If we negotiate for the use of the ship, instead of the ship itself, the IOA couldn't order it back to Earth for their use.]

"_Ainsi, nous offrons à enseigner les scientifiques Taranian comment utiliser leur technologie ancienne et réparer leur bateau_," Elizabeth spoke thoughtfully, "_En échange, nous arrivons à utiliser le navire sur une base régulière. Ce serait moins coûteux que d'essayer de négocier pour le navire lui-même_." [French: So, we offer to teach the Taranian scientists how to use their Ancient technology and repair their ship.] [French: In exchange, we get to use the ship on a regular basis. That would be less costly than trying to negotiate for the ship itself.]

"_Demander aux Taranians forment la majorité de l'équipage, le stationnement seulement une douzaine de notre personnel comme «consultants» à bord, avec le nombre approprié de Marines comme une escorte de sécurité_," D smirked, "_Il semble que leur peuple ne possèdent pas le gène nécessaire pour utiliser les systèmes importants, ou si ils le font, il est pas assez fort. Nous aurions effectivement le contrôle du navire. Nous serions obtenons un navire de guerre ancienne pour une fraction du prix. En supposant, bien sûr, vous pouvez obtenir le leader Taranian à accepter de tout cela._" [French: Have the Taranians form the majority of the crew, stationing only a dozen or so of our personnel as 'consultants' aboard, along with the appropriate number of Marines as a security escort.] [French: It sounds like their people don't have the gene required to use the important systems, or if they do, it's not strong enough. We'd effectively have control of the ship. We'd be getting an Ancient warship for a fraction of the price. Assuming, of course, you can get the Taranian leader to agree to all this.]

"I guess we're going to find out," Elizabeth laughed.

"If you two are done plotting now," John drawled, "I'm gonna get back there now…uh, make sure Rodney's not distracted."

"Distracted?" Elizabeth looked over to John curiously.

"Ah, well, the lead scientist, uh, she's very, um…" John paused.

"Hot?" Elizabeth asked wryly.

"I was going to say attractive," John continued, "But McKay is acting very…"

"Smitten?" Elizabeth suggested.

D snorted loudly.

"I was going to say pathetic," John grinned as he turned to leave.

"Wait," Elizabeth stood and came out from behind her desk, "I should head back with you and begin negotiations with the Taranian leader," Elizabeth paused, barely holding back a smile as she continued, "What's he like?"

"Oh, you know. He's a guy," John shrugged, "Didn't pay much attention. Sorry."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at his retreating back.

"We should bring Dr. Beckett as well, ma'am," D recommended, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind giving a few routine checkups in the Taranian settlement. I checked his schedule while we were talking, he's free this afternoon."

"Was he free before you adjusted his schedule?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, "I saw you moving things around on my laptop."

"He's technically supposed to be one of the on-duty doctors in the infirmary this afternoon," D admitted dryly, "Dr. McBride is on-call for any off-world missions requiring medical personnel, but he gets nervous leaving Atlantis. Neither of them will mind the switch and Carson has a better personality for goodwill missions anyway. He also has the ATA gene, where McBride does not. If he were to bring one of the healing wands with him, using it to heal a couple minor wounds or something, it would give the Taranians further proof that our people are adept at using Ancient tech."

"As long as the two of them don't mind, it's fine," Elizabeth grinned and shook her head, "Let them know about the switch and ask Carson to meet us in the gate room in fifteen minutes please."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"We are seeking to establish relations with civilizations throughout the galaxy," Elizabeth settled comfortably into the chair. She felt D's usual presence at behind her left shoulder but kept her eyes on the older man across the desk from her.

"As are we," Lycus agreed, "In fact, people from several worlds have chosen to emigrate here, seeking refuge from the Wraith."

"Our interest extends beyond just security, though," Elizabeth continued easily, "We're also interested in cultural exchange and, of course, trading opportunities. As you discovered, we have an extensive knowledge of Ancient technology."

"And we have an Ancient warship," Lycus replied evenly.

"Yes," Elizabeth smiled politely, "A ship that currently is unable to fly. If we were able to help repair it, perhaps we could negotiate-"

"We do not know all of its wonders," Lycus interrupted, "but I can only assume it possesses the capability for great destruction. Why would I hand over that capability to you?"

"Now, Chancellor, don't take this as a threat in any way," Elizabeth sat forward slightly, the polite smile still firmly in place, "but we already possess that capability. Now, having that ability and using it are two entirely different things."

"_Elizabeth_?" John's voice came over the radio.

D set a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. Elizabeth looked up and nodded, then D lifted her hand to tap her earpiece as she took several steps back, her quiet voice unobtrusive as she began talking.

"I'm not suggesting-" Elizabeth started again only to stop abruptly when the room shook violently. When the shaking stopped, she looked over her shoulder to D, watching warily as D narrowed her eyes.

"Explain it to me, Rodney," D ordered calmly, "In fifty words or less."

Elizabeth reached up to tap her own earpiece, just catching the end of Rodney's ranting explanation.

"-_soon. I'm not sure _how _soon_, _but soon enough that we should leave_," Rodney finished quickly.

"We're on our way," D reached up to tap her earpiece, waiting for Elizabeth to do the same before she stepped forward again, "Ma'am, there's a bit of a situation. Chancellor Lycus, Dr. McKay has requested that you and Dr. Weir join him in the main control room. It seems he's discovered something that concerns him."

"Very well," Lycus stood, gesturing to the silent bodyguard behind him.

Elizabeth stood, following the Chancellor out of the room.

"_Comment mauvaise_?" Elizabeth whispered quietly. [French: How bad?]

"_Assez mauvais que je suis d'accord avec Rodney à quitter_, _madame_," D replied softly. [French: Bad enough that I agree with Rodney about leaving.]

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

"I don't see a volcano," Elizabeth looked away from the window.

"Because you're standing inside it right now. Look, when you think of regular volcanoes, you think Mount St. Helens," Rodney lifted his hands, pressing his fingers together in a vaguely volcano shape, "or, uh, Kilauea."

"And supervolcano?" Elizabeth inquired.

"Yellowstone National Park," Rodney dropped his hands, "with a caldera over fifty miles wide and a massive sea of molten rock just beneath the surface."

"So the Ancients built the facility here in order to tap into all that geothermal energy," Elizabeth moved away from the window, joining the small group standing by the main console.

"Right. And these things don't erupt very often," Rodney continued his explanation, "Thousands, oftentimes hundreds of thousands of years go by between blasts."

"So the Ancients thought, what the hell, plenty of energy down there to run the shield?" John asked carefully.

"Yeah," Rodney agreed, looking over to Norina, "But not continuously."

"By doing so," Norina glanced over to Lycus, "we've increased the pressure of the magma chamber."

"It's expanded to over forty miles now," Rodney declared, "And increasing."

"Can it be stopped?" Elizabeth questioned.

"No. The damage is already done," Rodney shook his head, "A significant hotspot rift has opened. The pressure will keep building as magma continues pouring in directly beneath us."

"Is there anything we can do to relieve the pressure somewhere else?" John suggested, "Maybe we can fire a drone down into the crust on the other side of the caldera."

"Every problem has a military solution in your world, doesn't it?" the irritation began leaking through in Rodney's tone, "Look, when this baby goes, the whole thing goes."

"Then we need to evacuate your people," John informed Lycus seriously.

"Is there anywhere on this planet we can help relocate you to?" Elizabeth asked calmly.

"Look, you're still not getting it," Rodney glared at the gathered group of people, "Listen to me, all of you. When this thing erupts, the force of the explosion will be over ten thousand times greater than the blast that _destroyed_ Mount St Helens. It will obliterate half of this continent."

"There must be other continents," Elizabeth insisted.

"The dust cloud will envelop the planet within weeks, blocking out enough sunlight to kill every living thing. We are talking about an _Extinction Level Event_," Rodney's annoyed stare finally settled on Lycus, "Look, the only option you've got is to evacuate your people to another planet – and I would advise doing it sooner rather than later."

Lycus stayed silent for a moment, a pinched look on his face as he met Elizabeth's earnest expression.

"Excuse me," Lycus turned to leave, stopping briefly to whisper in a nearby guard's ear, "Watch them carefully."

The man straightened as Lycus and his bodyguard left the room quietly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was my volume turned right down?" Rodney questioned incredulously, "Did he not hear me?"

Norina gave Rodney an apologetic look, then moved to the other side of the room to speak with another technician.

"Not hearing you wasn't his problem," D met Elizabeth's gaze as she moved closer, "His problem was your timing."

"Because I'm the one who made the supervolcano unstable," Rodney threw his hands in the air.

"What's our best option?" Elizabeth ignored Rodney's outburst, directing the question to D, "If we want to save as many people as we can_._"

"Make an announcement in the village," D answered automatically, "Have Teyla tell them what's going on and give them the choice of leaving. But…"

"But?" Elizabeth narrowed her eyes when D started tapping the fingers of her left hand against her gun, "What is it?"

"_Ces personnes ont une connaissance assez décent de la technologie ancienne, madame_," D replied evenly, "_Si vous pouviez convaincre le chancelier que l'évacuation est nécessaire et avez de lui donner l'ordre, ils peuvent encore être de précieux alliés_." [French: These people have a fairly decent grasp of Ancient technology, ma'am.] [French: If you could convince the Chancellor that the evacuation is necessary and have him give the order, they can still be valuable allies.]

"Oh, here we go with the French again," Rodney rolled his eyes.

"_Vous voulez dire les ramener à Atlantis_?" Elizabeth asked cautiously, "_Prenez-les en tant que réfugiés_." [French: You mean take them back to Atlantis?] [French: Take them in as refugees.]

"I heard something about Atlantis," Rodney frowned at John, "Why do I get the feeling they're planning galactic domination?"

"Because they probably are," John drawled.

"_Nous avons des protocoles en place pour les évacuations de masse maintenant, madame_," D said hesitantly, "_Jusqu'à présent, je ne l'ai pas vu quelque chose ici qui indique ces gens seraient une menace. Si tout ou partie d'entre eux décident de rester sur Atlantis, je travaille avec certains membres du personnel de sécurité et je pense entre nous, nous pouvons faire une évaluation plus approfondie dans un laps de temps raisonnable. Leurs scientifiques semblent être assez compétent, même si elles ne sont pas tout à fait à la hauteur de la nôtre, et ils peuvent apprendre à utiliser et à entretenir certains des systèmes de moindre importance sur Atlantis. Halling et Otelia sont toujours heureux de prendre en plus de gens ainsi, pour ceux qui veulent un style de vie plus simple. Je suis sûr que Teyla peut être convaincu de mettre en place une sorte de système d'indemnisation, si nécessaire, de sorte qu'ils ne se sentent pas que nous sommes les transformer en esclaves du travail ou quelque chose comme ça_." [French: We have protocols in place for mass evacuations now, ma'am.] [French: So far, I haven't seen anything here that indicates these people would be a threat. If some or all of them decide to stay on Atlantis, I've been working with some of the security personnel and I think between us we can do a more thorough assessment in a reasonable amount of time. Their scientists appear to be fairly competent, even if they're not quite on par with ours, and they can be taught to use and maintain some of the lesser systems on Atlantis. Halling and Otelia are always happy to take in more people as well, for those who want a simpler lifestyle. I'm sure Teyla can be convinced to set up some sort of system for compensation, if necessary, so they don't feel they we're turning them into labor slaves or anything like that.]

"I heard Halling and Otelia," Rodney's frown deepened, "and Teyla. I hate not knowing what they're saying."

"_Avons-nous les ressources pour que les_?" a contemplative look came over Elizabeth's face, "_Si chacun d'entre eux décident de rester, nous parlons de près d'un millier de personnes. Serons-nous en mesure de soutenir que de nombreuses personnes de façon permanente_?" [French: Do we have the resources for that?] [French: If all of them decide to stay, we're talking close to a thousand people. Will we be able to sustain that many people permanently?]

"I think us not understanding is pretty much the point, Rodney," John shrugged, "They like to plot in secret."

"_En ce moment_…" D tilted her head to the side, "_Nous serions d'accord pour environ six mois. L'eau n'a jamais été un problème avec les systèmes de dessalement et nous avons été le stockage des aliments et des vêtements de la partie continentale pendant plusieurs mois. Le plus gros problème est que nous aurions logements chacun. Ils seraient obligés de rester dans les logements collectifs temporaires pendant au moins un mois, jusqu'à ce que nous pouvons obtenir assez d'espace sécuritaire dégagé_." [French: As of right now…] [French: We'd be okay for about six months. Water has never been a problem with the desalinization systems and we've been stockpiling food and clothing from the mainland for several months. The biggest problem we'd have is housing everyone. They'd have to stay in the temporary group quarters for at least a month, until we can get enough safe space cleared.]

"_Et six mois plus nous donnerait suffisamment de temps pour trouver une solution au problème des ressources._ All right," Elizabeth decided, "I'll talk to Chancellor Lycus and see if I can convince him. If not, we'll alert the settlement and evacuate anyone who wants to leave." [French: And six months would give us enough time to come up with a solution to the resource problem.]

"Yes, ma'am," D inclined her head.

Elizabeth eyed the stony-faced guard for a second, moving closer to D.

"Can you get me in to see the Chancellor alone?" Elizabeth leaned over to whisper in D's ear, "Even for a few minutes. He'll be easier to convince if he doesn't have to worry about saving face in front of his people."

"Quickly or nicely, ma'am?" D smiled innocently when the guard sent a wary look in their direction.

"Both, if possible," Elizabeth replied dryly, "But if you have to choose one, nicely."

"I never get to have any fun," D sighed and stepped forward to speak with the guard.

"Rodney thinks you two are planning on conquering the galaxy," John slid over to stand next to Elizabeth.

"Hey!" Rodney protested.

"Not today," Elizabeth sent an amused look in Rodney's direction, "But you might be getting that assistant you wanted soon."


	69. Fix

Elizabeth came rushing back into the control room, just behind Lycus, to see Rodney working furiously at the main console, Norina and the other technicians at the smaller ones around the room. John was standing near the windows, looking between a nervous Rodney and a calm D, who was waving a healing wand over the forehead of a seated technician.

"Is everyone all right?" Elizabeth asked cautiously.

"Nasty cut on his forehead," John gestured to the technician.

"I've taken care of the worst of it, ma'am," D slipped the wand back into one of her boots, "He'll be fine. Sheppard, I need something to clean the extra blood off."

John pulled a field dressing from one of his vest pockets, handing it to D as Norina looked up from her console to Lycus.

"Reports of the wounded are coming in from the settlement," Norina informed him.

"Dr. Beckett?" Elizabeth questioned.

D used one hand to gesture to her earpiece, "Ronon says Carson and Teyla are tending to the worst of the injured already. There aren't any injuries here that I can't handle so far."

"You'd better make it quick," Rodney's voice was tight, "The last tremor opened a hydrothermal vent in the base. The ground is eroding beneath us."

"You need to get your people off this planet," John stepped towards Lycus, "now."

"They can come to Atlantis. They'll be safe there," when Elizabeth saw the hesitation still clear on Lycus' face she continued, "If we didn't answer your call for help, this would still be happening."

"Chancellor," Norina pleaded seriously, "please listen to them."

"Alert the settlement," Lycus agreed with a reluctant nod, "Tell our people to gather only their most precious possessions and come here as quickly as possible. We'll begin evacuating immediately."

"Thank you," Elizabeth turned to look at D, "Dr. Vaughn?"

"McKay," D wiped the last of the blood from the techs head and pressed one of his hands on the dressing over his wound, "Dial Atlantis."

"Yeah," Rodney started pressing the keys.

"Ma'am," D walked around to stand next to Rodney at the console, "I'd prefer if you and the Chancellor were among the first to leave."

"Of course," Elizabeth agreed easily, "But I'd like you to stay here and coordinate the evacuation for as long as possible."

"Gate's active," Rodney announced.

"Elizabeth…" D hesitated.

"Protocols are already in place, D," Elizabeth spoke gently but firmly, "You said so yourself. You'll be of more use coordinating and dealing with logistics on this end. I'll be fine. I want to save as many of these people as we can."

"Please stay with Nemesis, ma'am," D inclined her head before reaching up to tap her earpiece, "Sgt. Campbell, this is Officer Vaughn. Initiate Guest House protocol immediately."

"_Authorization_?" Chuck questioned.

"Omega-four-three-seven-Alpha," D tapped a code onto the small GDO around her right wrist, "Sending my IDC now."

"Officer?" Rodney wondered.

"_Got it, ma'am_," Chuck replied quickly, "_How many_?"

"Around a thousand," D gestured to Elizabeth, "Dr. Weir and the leader of the Taranians will be coming through first. Chancellor Lycus will be able to give you a more accurate number."

"We're on our way now," Elizabeth looked up to Lycus and both of them began moving out of the room.

John turned to follow them, "I'll help with the evacuation."

"Alert all medical staff," D watched until Elizabeth was out the door, "to be prepared for multiple injuries. Carson is still doing triage here, but they should start arriving around the fifteen to twenty minute mark."

"_I'll let them know_," Chuck agreed, "_Nemesis and Cor are already in the control room and the twins will be here momentarily. Are we expecting any non-human guests_?"

"Non-human guests?" Rodney looked over, "What does that mean?"

"No livestock this time, Chuck," D held back a smile, "Essentials only."

"_I'll send someone over to the mainland_," Chuck announced easily, "_Make sure we have enough food for everyone. Bays three and four are being prepared as we speak. Should be done in thirty minutes. It'll take a little longer to clear out Bay five. Maybe three hours. If that's not enough space, we'll set them up in the temporary barracks. How long will our guests be staying_?"

"Livestock?" Rodney stared at D curiously, "We have protocol for _livestock_?"

"I'm not sure how long they're staying," D answered carefully, "But you should probably have Miko go to the mainland too. She needs to talk with Otelia and Halling."

"_Understood, ma'am_," Chuck responded evenly, "_Atlantis out_."

D reached up to tap her earpiece again, "Ronon, Teyla, come in."

"Why does Miko need to go to the mainland?" Rodney narrowed his eyes at D.

"_We are here_," Teyla's calm voice came over the radio, "_We have already begun the evacuation_."

"Try to keep the families together as much as you can," D waved a dismissive hand at Rodney, "Make sure everyone knows to bring only what they absolutely need. We'll be able to provide for their basic needs. Let Carson know his staff has already been notified and they're prepared to receive the wounded as soon as we can get them through the gate."

"_The rest of our people_?" Teyla inquired.

"McKay is still in the control room with me," D glanced over to him, "Sheppard has gone to help with the flow of evacuees. Dr. Weir is on her way to the gate with the Chancellor. Everyone's fine."

"_Going to the City_?" Ronon questioned.

"Yes," D agreed, "The kits are already in the control room, but keep an eye out."

"_Got it_," Ronon grunted.

"Ignoring me again," Rodney grumbled and went back to working on the console in front of him.

D moved forward towards the window, looking down as the first group approached the gate.

"_We'll see you on the other side_," Elizabeth stated calmly, "_Please, make it quick_."

"Dr. Weir and the first group of refugees are through," D paused to watch for a minute, "Sheppard?"

"_Keep the line moving_," John commanded easily.

Everything began shaking violently. Rodney rushed forward to the window, D reaching over to steady him as they both looked down to see the ground splitting around the gate. Steam and smoke billowed from the cracks and the people heading towards the gate started to flee back towards the complex. When a long fissure opened up and a pool of magma began spewing out, eroding the ground beneath the gate, Rodney and D both threw a hand to their earpieces.

"Sheppard," D ordered harshly, "Get those people back inside _now_."

"Atlantis, this is McKay," Rodney shouted at the same time, "Raise the shield! I repeat _– raise the shield_!"

Norina came to join them at the window, watching in horror as the ground continued to shake and the gate was swallowed up in a pool of lava.

"The Stargate," Norina whispered as the tremors stopped.

"It's gone," Rodney's voice wavered, "The gate's gone."

"Rodney," D lowered her hand from Rodney's elbow to wrap it around the skin of his wrist, "Do not panic."

"Don't tell me not to panic," Rodney protested loudly, his face reddening, "We're trapped in the middle of an active supervolcano that's in the process of erupting and there's no way off this planet. Panic is a perfectly legitimate reaction."

"_Rodney_," D spoke firmly, "I cannot afford to have you freak out right now. Calm the fuck down."

"What happened?" John came running back into the room.

"The Stargate was swallowed up by magma," D answered without looking away from Rodney, "Which is cause for only mild concern."

"Mild concern?" Rodney scowled furiously, "Did you forget about the part where we're _inside an active volcano_?"

"What communication capabilities does this outpost have?" D asked evenly.

"She's right," John moved closer, "If we can't contact Atlantis through the gate, maybe we can-"

"This facility has no means of direct subspace communication," Rodney turned his scowl towards John, "We are totally screwed."

"Rodney, be calm," D scolded, "When Elizabeth tries to dial back and can't reach us, she'll send the Daedalus. It should be here in," her gaze flickered down to her watch and back up to Rodney, "about an hour. Caldwell will be able to evacuate some of the population but only about two hundred or so at a time. It'll take him forty-eight hours minimum to get everyone. I don't think we have that kind of time. Can you fix it?"

"Fix what?" Rodney asked indignantly, his eyes widening in comprehension, "You can't seriously expect…"

"What?" John narrowed his eyes when Rodney trailed off.

"You can leave in the first group on the Daedalus, if you want," D offered calmly, "No one here will stop you. But I'm pretty sure that means a lot of people are going to die. Elizabeth wanted me to save as many as I can, so that's what I'm going to do. That means I need your help. We all do."

"I can fix it, yes," Rodney snarked, his expression already turning calculating, "In less than forty-eight hours, probably not."

"Fix the ship?" John questioned, "Can you do that, Rodney? We can fit most of the settlement in there."

"You don't have to fix all of it," D pointed out, "Just the important bits. Can you do it or not?"

"Maybe," Rodney admitted reluctantly, looking between John and D, "Probably not, but maybe."

"Take Norina with you," D finally released Rodney's arm, "And Sheppard, in case you need to activate anything. I'll contact the others, let them know what's going on, then I'll come see what I can do to help."

"Fine," Rodney grumbled as he moved over to pick up his tablet, leaning close to Norina as he spoke again, "I'm about to save everyone's lives…_again_, if you'd like to come watch."

"Of course, Dr. McKay," Norina smiled as she followed Rodney from the room.

"Sheppard," D's voice stopped him from leaving and she stepped closer, laying a hand over his forearm, "He's going to remain calm for the next ten minutes, then he's probably going to start freaking out again."

"I know how to keep him focused," John agreed cautiously, "You gonna tell me how you know that for sure?"

"No," D answered flatly, moving her hand from his arm to tap her earpiece, "Teyla, this is D. There's been a change of plans."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

Rodney looked up from the console to his tablet, scowling slightly as he looked back to the console and tapped several keys. D was working at another console behind them, muttering quietly to herself in several different foreign languages.

John came jogging into the room, stopping in front of Rodney as he spoke.

"Beckett and Norina are helping people get on board," John informed them, "It's getting pretty tense, but nobody's trampled each other…yet."

Rodney ignored his statement, looking over to his tablet again when it beeped ominously. D turned around and peered around his shoulder to read it as he scrolled through. Rodney's expression turned slightly terrified as he lifted his gaze to John.

"What?" John questioned.

"Two large fissures just opened up near the base," Rodney answered uncertainly, "One of the lava flows just covered the hangar directly above us. We're talking over thirty feet thick."

"Is the door gonna hold?" John asked carefully.

"I don't know. I-I-I think so," Rodney stammered, "but that's not the bigger problem. Even if I can get the engines fixed, there is no way to fly this ship out of here. We're stuck."

"I'm really starting to dislike this planet," D reached for Rodney's wrist again, looking up as Norina came through the door, "Lava flows above the hangar doors."

"Oh," Norina moved around the console to look at the tablet.

"Time for a military solution," John declared.

"For which problem?" Rodney snarked.

"We've got an armory full of drones on board," John reminded them, "Maybe we can blast through the hangar door."

"The hangar door is directly above us," Norina shook her head, "The molten lava would destroy the ship."

Rodney's face brightened and he pulled away from D's grip, clicking his fingers together several times.

"Not if I can get the shields operational," Rodney shifted over to the furthest wall.

"Tell me you can do that," John said cautiously.

"I can do that," Rodney pressed a section of the wall to slide a large crystal tray out, "Once they're operational, we'll be able to provide enough protection to, uh…"

"To what?" John prompted.

"Talk amongst yourselves," Rodney replied absently.

"What are you doing?" John followed Norina over to stand by Rodney.

"Can't talk," Rodney pulled one of the flat crystals from the tray, holding it up to inspect it, "Busy."

"Rodney," D stepped between them, plucking the crystal from Rodney's hand, "Wait."

"Look, Red," Rodney snatched the crystal back, "I don't have time to argue with you about this. I know you think-"

"Rodney," D cut him off, "I'm not arguing with you."

"You're not?" Rodney asked warily.

"No," D smiled gently, "If you think this is our best option, I trust that you know what you're doing."

"You do?" Rodney's cheeks pinked, "Really?"

"I was going to suggest," D held out a hand, palm up, "that you let me do this part and you get started on the other thing. I know what these are supposed to look like, I don't know about the other ones. It'll go faster this way."

"Oh, okay, sure," Rodney handed over the crystal, "You can…" Rodney waved a hand at the crystal tray before he moved back to his tablet, "And I'll take care of…"

"Colonel," D glanced over to him and Norina, "This will go faster if you leave us to our work."

"Do I at least get a basic idea of what the plan is?" John drawled, "Or should I just cross my fingers and hope for the best?"

"I don't think that will help," D pulled another crystal from the tray, "But you might want to give Rodney one of your powerbars before you leave. He's getting cranky. Take Norina with you for an hour, then we'll need her help."

"Fine," John rolled his eyes and pulled open a pocket from his vest. He tossed the powerbar to Rodney as he walked past, "I'll check in with you guys later. Radio if you need anything."

Rodney waited until John and Norina left the room, fidgeting with the powerbar as he looked over to D nervously.

"Uh, thanks," Rodney mumbled, "For not…I mean…for…"

"Rodney," D interjected, "Stop being weird. It creeps me out when you try to be nice."

"Right," Rodney snorted, "You too, idiot."

"Jackass," D replied easily.

Rodney grinned and unwrapped the powerbar, taking a big bite.

"Hey, Rodney?" D glanced over.

"Yeah?" Rodney moved his tablet closer.

"Norina would make a good lab assistant for you," D said thoughtfully.

"You think so?" Rodney's cheeks pinked again.

"If you can stop staring at her boobs long enough," D nodded, "Yeah."

"I wasn't-" Rodney spluttered, "I mean, technically I was, but I wouldn't-"

"Hey, Rodney?" D smiled innocently.

"What?" Rodney asked warily.

"If this doesn't work," D warned, the harmless smile still on her face, "My ghost is going to haunt your ghost for all of eternity. Unending, unrelenting, relentless non-corporeal torture."

"Non-corporeal torture?" Rodney gaped at her, "How do you even come up with this crap?"

"Shields, Rodney," D put one of the crystals she held to the side and pulled out another, "Exploding supervolcano of death. Get to work."

"Death by exploding lava, right," Rodney turned his attention back to his tablet, "Working."


	70. New Plan

"All right. Tell the people to get on the floor and secure themselves. I think the eruption is imminent," Rodney looked over to where Carson was gripping the back of the console, head down and expression grim, "We're…just about ready."

"Ready for what?" John asked from the doorway.

Carson, Rodney, and Norina all looked over quickly, relief clear on their expressions.

"Oh, thank god," Carson exclaimed quietly.

"What took you so long?" Rodney grinned happily.

"Just about ready for what?" John came over to stand around the console with them.

"To activate the shields," Rodney answered easily.

"You said the blast from the eruption would wipe out half the continent," John pointed out.

"It will," Rodney agreed, "and after four point one seconds of those extreme temperatures and pressures, our shields will be depleted."

"Well, as much as I'm all for living for another four seconds…" John drawled.

"That's not very much time for anything, Rodney," Carson maintained.

Rodney's grin grew smug as he spread his arms wide, "It's plenty of time to open a hyperspace window."

The three of them stared at Rodney blankly and he dropped his arms back to his sides.

"What?" Rodney pouted slightly when they failed to look impressed, "That's my plan. Didn't I tell you about that?"

"No," Carson answered evenly.

"No, you didn't," John shook his head.

"Well, you were too busy running around looking for people," Rodney huffed in annoyance.

"Well, tell us the damn plan," John ordered.

"Fixing the sublight engines was impossible in the amount of time we had left," Rodney explained quickly, "They were just too badly damaged, but I devised a sort of a patch that in effect diverts auxiliary power to the hyperdrive. Only enough for a fraction of a second, mind you."

"That won't get us very far," John said warily.

"We don't need to go far," Rodney twirled a finger in the air, "Any old orbit will do."

"And then what?" John prompted.

Rodney rolled his eyes.

"Well, then Norina and I," Rodney leaned against the console, "were planning a small dinner for us all, nothing fancy…"

"Rodney," Norina scolded.

There was a thump from under the console and Rodney exclaimed in pain as he took a step back.

"Explain it without the sarcasm, jackass," D's calm voice drifted up, "And watch where you're stepping."

"Well, what does he mean '_then what_'?" Rodney protested indignantly, "Then we won't die horribly and my ghost won't get haunted for eternity?"

"So your plan is to not blow a hole in the hangar," John stated patiently, "but to sit here and wait for this cataclysmic eruption to take place."

"With the shields and inertial dampeners at full strength," Rodney nodded, "Yes."

"I think I may be missing something," Carson looked at Rodney curiously, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but when the volcano erupts, don't we as well?"

Rodney clicked his fingers together and gave Carson another smug grin, "That's the plan."

"That's the plan?" John questioned.

"That's the plan," Rodney turned the grin to John.

"That plan sucks!" John objected.

"Aye!" Carson agreed firmly.

There was a quickly smothered snort of laughter from under the console.

Rodney's grin morphed back into the disappointed pout, "This ship will be ejected along with the magma and steam several thousand feet into the air."

"The ship can survive that?" John asked cautiously.

"For exactly four point one seconds, yes," Rodney clarified impatiently, "Look, the hangar should disintegrate. The moment we're clear, we open a brief hyperspace window, jump to space before the explosion depletes our shields and incinerates us, hmm?"

Rodney looked at John, Carson, and Norina expectantly. Carson blinked at him several times and John was staring at him wide-eyed.

"Okay," John declared easily.

"What?" Rodney looked over to see Norina smiling proudly at him.

"Very clever, Rodney," Carson proclaimed.

"Hmm. Well...don't thank me 'til it works…" Rodney's cheeks pinked and he shifted on his feet, "which it probably won't."

"If you're quite finished up there," D began, amusement still clear in her voice, "I'm pretty sure this is done. Come look."

John and Carson moved around the console as Rodney ducked underneath, shouldering D to the side and dropping his tablet onto her stomach. Rodney reached up to check the crystals and D held the tablet where he could see the readout.

"Did you get the-" Rodney started.

"Yup," D nodded.

"And the other-" Rodney continued.

"I think so?" D said hesitantly, "I put the stripey one-"

"Never mind, I see the _stripey one_," Rodney rolled his eyes, "It looks okay, we just have to-"

"Make sure I did it right, Rodney," a frown creased D's forehead, "If this doesn't work…"

"Non-corporeal torture," Rodney huffed, "I remember."

"Non-corporeal torture?" Carson wondered, "What does that mean?"

"It means my vindictiveness knows no bounds," D deadpanned, "I will get my revenge from _beyond the grave_."

"I think we're set," Rodney decided, taking the tablet back from D as they both wiggled their way out from the small space, "Hyperdrive's ready, inertial dampeners engaged, shields are up…We're good to go."

"We should head up to the bridge," D stood, brushing her pants off.

"Yeah," Rodney stood, his eyes widening as he swayed slightly, "Whoa."

"What?" Norina asked nervously.

Rodney blinked at her a couple times before he replied, "Got up too fast."

John rolled his eyes as their group left the room. They started making their way quickly towards the bridge.

"Sheppard?" D tapped his elbow to get him to slow down, letting the others go ahead of them, "Ronon and Teyla?"

"I couldn't reach them on the radio," John spoke quietly, "The tunnel was caved in. I don't know if…"

"Oh," D ducked her head, looking at the floor, "Right then."

"Here," Rodney announced loudly, waving his hand over a control panel to open the door in front of them, "This is it."

"Where's the PA?" John followed them into the large room.

"Arm of the chair," Rodney pointed to the chair at the center of the room, slightly larger than the rest and on a raised section of floor.

John sat down, lights coming on above him as he did so. As Rodney and Norina took the seats directly in front of him, he tapped the spot where Rodney had pointed.

"Alright, folks, all chairs and seat backs into…" John watched as D took a slightly bewildered Carson by the elbow and guided him into a chair at the side, "…your upright…and locked positions."

D patted Carson's shoulder before she moved around behind the center chair to take the seat on John's other side.

"Don't hold your breath," Rodney lifted his hands to grip the console in front of him tightly, "it could happen any time in the next half an hour."

_*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*AM*_

The senior staff and Colonel Caldwell were gathered in the conference room, all of them leaning or sitting on the front of the U-shaped table instead of in their chairs. Elizabeth was at the center, D in her usual spot at her left side, Caldwell on the right. Carson, Ronon, and Teyla lined the left table while John, Rodney, Radek, and Lorne lined the left.

"The explosion was every bit as destructive as I feared," Rodney looked around the room, "The, uh, ash cloud has encircled the entire planet."

"Will the Taranian people ever be able to go home?" Teyla wondered.

"Not for many years, I'm afraid," Carson shook his head.

"On that note," Elizabeth glanced over to D with a small smile, "Chancellor Lycus has agreed to a work exchange program."

"He did?" D's eyes widened, "Huh. I didn't think it would actually work."

"Work exchange program?" Rodney questioned warily, "What sort of exchange?"

"Most of the Taranians will be relocating to another planet," Elizabeth explained, "We found a planet that Chancellor Lycus feels is suitable for them and we've already started relocating the people there. However," Elizabeth's smile widened, "About fifty or so of the Taranian scientists will be staying here in the City. In exchange for our scientists teaching theirs about Ancient technology, Lycus has agreed to let our engineers repair and study the Aurora. Once the repairs are complete, the Taranian living here in the City will form the majority of her crew, along with whichever engineers – besides themselves – that Drs. McKay and Zelenka deem appropriate. Major Lorne and a platoon of Marines will also be stationed on the Aurora, whenever she is required to leave the planet, to ensure everyone's safety."

"Wait a minute," John protested, "Why does Lorne get to fly the cool Ancient ship? I'm the one that found it."

"And why can't I stay on the ship?" Rodney added, "If it weren't for me there wouldn't even _be_ a ship."

"Because, sir," Lorne spoke patiently, "If anything were to happen, if the City were attacked by the Wraith, you'd be needed in the control chair. Rosie likes you better than she likes me. The Aurora hasn't been fully initialized yet, so if she's anything like the jumpers, it'd be better for me to do it."

"Same with you, Rodney," Elizabeth ignored the obvious pouts from both John and Rodney, "You'd be needed here in Atlantis to solve any problems that we encounter."

"Don't worry, Colonel," Caldwell smirked at him, "I'm sure if you ask nicely, the Major will let you take her for a spin around the solar system."

"Maybe if he does his own paperwork for a month," Lorne muttered under his breath, "Or two."

"I heard that," John glared at Lorne.

"Heard what, sir?" Lorne smiled innocently.

"I agree that Dr. McKay would be needed here," Radek straightened his glasses as he gave Elizabeth a polite smile, "But the same may not be true of myself. Perhaps we could discuss the possibility of me staying on the Aurora's crew at a later date."

"We can discuss it," Elizabeth agreed evenly, lips twitching into another smile, "Once the ship is repaired."

"Hey!" Rodney objected loudly, "That's not fair!"

"_Děkuji_, Dr. Weir," Radek beamed a happy grin at her, "Thank you." [Czech: Thanks.]

"It's just a ship," Ronon gave them a flat look, "Who wants to be stuck in a ship all the time?"

"An Ancient warship," Rodney scowled at him.

"That you can fly _with your mind_," John added.

"So?" Ronon shrugged.

Rodney's jaw dropped and he started spluttering angrily.

"_Kunane_," D managed to hold back her smile.

"Do not tease them, _kunane_," Teyla patted Ronon's arm, "You know how the two of them react around things of Ancestral origin."

"I think we all know by now," Caldwell agreed easily, "Not just them though. All the ATA positive people get a little weird around Ancient gizmos."

Half the room turned to gape at Caldwell, the other half with knowing smiles.

"What?" Caldwell grinned, "I've seen the faces you people make when you get into the jumpers."

"It's true," Radek nodded seriously, "Same face when they see blue jello for dessert."

"It's always the blue jello," Caldwell rolled his eyes, "I really don't see the appeal."

"Huh," D leaned around Elizabeth to stare at Caldwell, "You know, you're actually not so bad when you're not trying to commit mass murder."

"Likewise, Dr. Vaughn," Caldwell winked at her.

"There's one more thing everyone should know," Elizabeth's expression turned serious, "We sent the weekly status report to the SGC this morning. There was a message from the IOA. It seems they've decided to conduct my yearly review in person this year."

"When are we leaving, ma'am?" D's expression blanked.

"We're not," Elizabeth tightened her hands around the table, "They're sending a representative here to Atlantis. Apparently, they'd like to observe me in a work setting, get a firsthand look at my decision making process. Each of you will be required to sit through an interview with the representative. I expect you to answer any and all questions honestly. I cannot and will not ask any of you to lie on my behalf."

"Do you know who they're sending?" John inquired evenly.

"A Mr. Woolsey, I believe," Elizabeth answered calmly.

"Woolsey's not too bad," Caldwell replied carefully, "A bit of a nuisance, sure, but a glorified paper-pusher, basically. I'm pretty sure you'll be able to handle him, but I could _accidently_ lose him on the way back, if you want."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Elizabeth said dryly, "They'd only send someone else. But thank you for the offer."

"Six weeks until he gets here?" the calculation was easy to see on D's face as the dangerous smile spread across her lips.

"Oh, god," Rodney threw his hands in the air, "She's plotting again. That always means more work for everyone."

"I assume you have a plan, _kaina_," Teyla smiled serenely, "To ensure that this…Mr. Woolsey has no reason to find fault with Elizabeth's leadership."

"I do," D responded smoothly, "Several, in fact."

"Do I get to shoot anyone?" Ronon asked hopefully.

"Not until Plan M," D shook her head, "And if we get that far down, we have other problems."

"What can we do to help prepare?" Radek asked seriously.

"Anything you need," Carson nodded.

"I'll send out emails in a couple hours," D assured them.

"This really isn't necessary," Elizabeth shook her head.

"Just because it's not necessary," John drawled, "Doesn't mean we're not going to do it anyway."

"We all know you can handle one paper-pusher from the IOA, ma'am," Lorne agreed, "You'll chew him up and spit him out before he even knows what happened. That doesn't mean we don't want to help."

"I believe I speak for all of us," Teyla looked around the room as she stepped forward, "when I say that Atlantis, all those who now call this great City home, and all the allies you have made in this galaxy have benefitted a great deal from your leadership. We would prefer you carry on that leadership, so that we all may continue to benefit."

"_Tu ne vas nulle part_, Elizabeth," D insisted, "_Je refuse de laisser une bande de bureaucrates utiliser mes actions pour vous emmener loin d'ici. Ceci est ma faute,_" D held up a hand to stop Elizabeth's protest, "_au moins en partie, et je vais faire tout en mon pouvoir pour y remédier_." [French: You're not going anywhere.] [French: I refuse to let a bunch of bureaucrats use my actions to take you away from here. This is my fault, at least partly, and I am going to do everything in my power to fix it.]

"Otelia told me something interesting," Elizabeth ducked her head to hide the blush on her cheeks, "when we first met. She said 'A leader surrounds herself with loyal people. A good leader surrounds herself with wise people. A great leader surrounds herself with those who are both'," Elizabeth lifted her head to look around the room, meeting each person's eyes for a short time, "Right now, at this very moment, I feel like one of the greatest leaders the galaxy has ever known."

"Time for galactic domination then?" Rodney snarked, a smug smirk on his face.

"Maybe not quite that great," Elizabeth laughed and moved away from the table, "Time for everyone to get back to work. I have a feeling things are going to get very interesting from here on out."

* * *

**We have finally reached the end of this story. When I started this, forever ago it seems, I intended it to be a short thing, just something to keep me busy. Somehow, it morphed into this 200k word, 70 chapter monstrosity, and to be completely honest, I'm not entirely sure how it happened. I do have plans to continue this series, picking up in season three, and I'm going to *hopefully* start on that in the next couple weeks. **

**Thanks for sticking with me 'til the end! As always, thank you so very much for taking the time to read this. **


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